


Out of Time

by Mari_kel



Series: Naruto Founder's Week 2020 [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, As of chapter 2, Canon-Typical Violence, Cuddling & Snuggling, Death, Established Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Genin Era, Holding Hands, Kissing, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Meta Angst, Murder, Naruto Founder's Week 2020, No longer a one-shot, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Senju Hashirama-centric, Swearing, Team 13, Team Yamato - Freeform, Team as Family, Time Travel, Uchiha Madara-centric, Underage Kissing, Worldbuilding, and more: angry baby who will fight and kill god if he looks at madara wrong, hashirama is less: sweet innocent sunshine child, imperfect ending, its both heart warming and heart breaking, madara and hashirama just have no concept of personal space with each other, non-sexual nudity, not graphic but present, the 12 year old version, the Uchiha are a sun-cult and this is the hill I've chosen to die on, they kill for a living, they're ninja, yet Hashirama and Madara are still pretty idealistic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:34:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 92,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27045097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mari_kel/pseuds/Mari_kel
Summary: Sarutobi Hiruzen was a smart man.He was the third Hokage of the Hidden Leaf, star pupil of Senju Tobirama, hailed as the second God of Shinobi, and master of ten thousand jutsu. But, as he stares down at the result of the latest botched space-time jutsu, one taken from the Nidaime’s Forbidden Archive and modified by Hiruzen himself, he wonders how smart he really is to have something backfire this badly.Because there is a tiny, angry, twelve-year-old Uchiha Madara with only one-tomoe sharingan, yelling and brandishing a kunai at him. And clinging to Madara’s arm is an equally tiny Senju Hashirama, shaking and alarmingly pale.Hiruzen closes his eyes and sighs.Truly a smart man.OR: The one where Yamato gets his own rather unique genin team comprised of a ghost, a god, and an assassin, and the timeline will never be the same.
Relationships: Dai-nana-han | Team 7 & Hatake Kakashi, Haruno Sakura & Senju Hashirama, Haruno Sakura & Uzumaki Naruto, Hatake Kakashi & Uchiha Sasuke, Senju Hashirama & Yamato | Tenzou, Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara, Uchiha Madara & Sai (Naruto), Uchiha Madara & Tatsuki (OC), Uchiha Madara & Uzumaki Naruto, Uchiha Sasuke & Uzumaki Naruto, Yamato | Tenzou & Team 13
Series: Naruto Founder's Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1973896
Comments: 376
Kudos: 659
Collections: Founders Week 2020, ShiIta is Love✨HashiMada is Life, why im sleep deprived 💖✨, wwwwwww





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1: Time Travel
> 
> This was supposed to be a short one-shot...it was supposed to be under 5K...I...I don't know what happened. Don't expect this length from the other fics in this event LOL. 
> 
> Anyway, please note that this is a time-travel fic, not a "time-travel fix-it." It is my firm, and slightly fanatical, belief that time travel is the devil's bargain/monkey's paw/genie's wish of fix-it fics. This story is mostly cute and fluffy but implications lurk throughout. 
> 
> Also, a slight deviation from canon at the start, Madara already has his Sharingan. I felt like if he got it during the time-travel shenanigans there'd have to be some kind of long, extended comment on the Uchiha/Senju issue and I didn't want to focus on that. It's explained in-fic but basically: Hashirama had an accident, Madara saved him, his Sharingan awakened. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Edit 12/21: grammar, a few worldbuilding details, bit on Hashirama and Madara's relationship, etc.

**Hiruzen**

Sarutobi Hiruzen was a smart man.

He was the third Hokage of the Hidden Leaf, star pupil of Senju Tobirama, hailed as the second God of Shinobi, and master of ten thousand jutsu. But, as he stares down at the result of the latest botched space-time jutsu, one taken from the Nidaime’s Forbidden Archive and modified by Hiruzen himself, he wonders how smart he really is to have something backfire this badly.

Because there is a tiny, angry, twelve-year-old Uchiha Madara with only one-tomoe sharingan, yelling and brandishing a kunai at him. And clinging to Madara’s arm is an equally tiny Senju Hashirama, shaking and alarmingly pale.

Hiruzen closes his eyes and sighs.

Truly a smart man.

**Madara**

“Who the fuck are you?! Where are we?!” Madara yells, staring at the old man dressed in the funny looking robes. Moments ago, he was chasing Hashirama along the high cliffs next to the river when something caught the other boy’s eye and he tripped, tumbling over the edge. Madara, veins full of fear, didn’t hesitate to do the stupid thing and jump off after him. Below the river ran fast and deep and Hashirama couldn’t swim.

He’d drown.

He’d _die._

Madara couldn’t let him die.

But they didn’t fall into the rushing water. Instead, they fell _through_ something, a pale tear above the river, and ended up here…wherever _here_ is.

Madara is…pretty sure they’re not dead. He knows this isn't Amaterasu's Embrace because the goddess isn't here and neither is Mother. And no one said anything about the wider Pure Lands being a weird stuffy office with messy bookshelves and scrolls spread out everywhere. Certainly nothing about an old man staring at them with a pinched expression.

Hashirama is the only familiar thing about this situation but he’s still reeling from going over the cliff’s edge. Madara tightens his grip on the kunai and shuffles a bit more in front of him to protect him from the old man’s gaze.

“I asked, _who the fuck are you—”_

“JIJI! Jiji, I passed!” The office door bursts open and a blond boy rushes in. “I’m a real genin…now…” the boy trails off and stares at them in confusion. He’s wearing the weirdest, _ugliest_ orange clothes Madara has ever seen. On his forehead is a metal headband with an unknown clan symbol. The old man’s eyes widen in shock and for the first time Madara sees concern, maybe even _fear_ reflected in them.

The old man stares at Madara, but it’s Hashirama who acts. He clasps his hands together in one of those ridiculously simple hand signs that Madara hates and sharp spears of wood shoot from the floor, caging in the blond boy with two sharpened points pricking at the carotid arteries on either side of his neck.

One wrong move and he’s dead.

The boy freezes and the old man turns to Hashirama with something akin to _betrayal_ in his eyes. Madara takes the chance to pass off his kunai to Hashirama, who holds the wooden cage together with one hand. Madara runs through the signs for a Great Fireball jutsu and holds the final sign, fire and chakra burning on the back of his tongue.

Hashirama steps forward, shoulder to shoulder with Madara.

“This is that last time we’ll ask: who are you?! Where are we?!”

**Hiruzen**

Hiruzen wonders, absently, if the space-time ninjutsu backfired even more than he first thought. Because the angry child in front of him looked nothing like the energetic, cheerful man he’d known. He didn’t think Hashirama-sensei, if he can even think of the child version by that name, was _capable_ of such an expression. And now Naruto’s presence complicates an already unstable situation.

Hiruzen didn’t think Hashirama would kill a child, Madara would, but he won’t call the bluff. 

“I am Sarutobi Hiruzen,” Hashirama relaxes ever so slightly while Madara tenses further, “and you are in Konohagakure.”

“I’ve never heard of Konohagakure. What land are we in? Why did you bring us here?” His brown eyes never waver from Hiruzen’s, unconcerned with Madara’s burning chakra, ready to be released and consume the office at the slightest provocation.

“The Land of Fire. Your arrival was not intentional.”

“Don’t lie to me, there is no Konohagakure in the Land of Fire. The Sarutobi are allied with no civilian settlement of that name, I would know if they were.” He says it easily, without hesitation. Hiruzen is tempted to push him further and might do so if Naruto wasn’t here. Hashirama-sensei considered Madara a friend and co-founder of the village but there were always rumors surrounding the two and the start of their relationship. It was generally acknowledged that they had to have met sometime before the truce, but this…

Hashirama and Madara stand side by side and Madara showed no hesitation to hand him a weapon. He stepped in front of Hashirama when they first fell through rip and is allowing the other to speak for him. Hashirama clung to him when they first fell through and he shows no visible reaction to the sharingan.

_When did they meet? How long have they known the other’s clan name?_

This was no meeting as two adults, but two barely genin-aged children. But, Hiruzen admits to himself, they are _not_ genin. Even in the First and Second Shinobi Wars, the level of violence didn’t start as young or intensely as it did in the Warring States Era. Both of these children had been on the battlefield as soon as they could walk and hold a weapon. Madara has probably already killed adults of rival clans.

“It is the truth. I was attempting to refine a space-time ninjutsu, but something went wrong and it looks like you two were caught up in the effects of it. I can explain more, but I’d ask both of you stand down and release Naruto.”

Hashirama doesn’t budge, his eyes flick to Madara’s and then back to Hiruzen.

“You’re a Sarutobi. Swear to me on Enma’s contract that you’re telling the truth and that you, your allies, or your enemies will not move against us,” Hashirama demands.

_Danzou isn’t going to be happy about this._ Hiruzen can feel his chakra outside the Tower, storming up the stairs. No doubt alerted by the strange jutsu and two powerful new chakra signatures.

“I swear on Enma’s contract, I speak only the truth and no harm will come to you while I explain your situation.”

Madara’s black eyes narrow and Hiruzen can practically hear the protest about to erupt from Hashirama.

“I can promise no more protection than that, it would be foolish for me to swear something I cannot uphold.”

Both boys frown but after a long, tense moment Madara drops his hands, sharingan and chakra dispersing as he coughs up smoke. Hashirama releases his hand sign and the wooden spears sink back into the floor. He turns to Madara, concern in his eyes, as he rubs the boy’s back.

“Naruto, congratulations on your appointment, but please come back another time.” The boy, pouting and unusually quiet, slips out of Hiruzen’s office. He makes a mental note to talk to him later. This _situation_ with Hashirama and Madara won’t be resolved immediately and he’ll probably do something childish to get back at them.

And with the kyuubi so close to Madara…

“Start talking.” Madara straightens and crosses his arms.

**Madara**

“The future…we’re in the _future_ , Madara! It’s our village! We did it, we really did it!” Hashirama yells, almost toppling over the balcony’s railing before Madara grabs his haori and hauls him back. He understands Hashirama’s excitement. They’re looking out over the single biggest settlement Madara has ever seen and it’s _theirs._ All the ideas he and Hashirama traded back and forth, so far out of reach they felt more like impossible dreams than achievable reality…it’s all here. Right in front of him.

“Look, it’s our cliff! We were just there this morning and now…all of this!!” Hashirama laughs and almost launches himself over the railing a second time, he can’t stop moving. Madara pulls him back and links their hands to hold him still.

“It’s… _amazing,_ ” Madara doesn’t know how to put it into words. Everything is so overwhelming. They did it. He and Hashirama _made their village._ And it’s not just the Senju and Uchiha clans, the Sarutobi and Shimura, and probably others, are here too.

Madara tears his gaze away from their dream to peek back in the office.

The hokage, a name Hashirama _had_ to have come up with it’s so ridiculous, stands next to his adviser, whispering in low tones. Madara didn’t know quite what to make of the old man but the new one, the one with a bandaged eye and arm, Madara got the distinct impression the man did not like him.

Hiruzen was vague when he explained the jutsu and where they were. _Time travel._ Even with Madara’s knowledge of jutsu and chakra it seemed…absurd. And complicated. Based on Hiruzen’s pinched expression he didn’t know what them being here meant for the timeline. It created some sort of paradox and by that part Madara started to tune him out because he started muttering about different fuinjutsu equations and theories. Hashirama had long since stopped paying attention.

In the end Madara gathered that because the world didn’t explode or something when they first got here it… _should_ be fine. But Hiruzen didn’t want to take any chances about corrupting the timeline. But before he could explain that _,_ his advisor appeared, nostrils flared and mouth pressed into a thin flat line. His chakra felt…strange, almost familiar but before Madara could ask, they were shooed off to the balcony to let the adults speak. Typical.

“Madara,” Hashirama tugs on his hand, “Madara, we should go explore.” Hashirama’s brown eyes sparkle.

It’s a bad idea, one almost guaranteed to get them in trouble with the Sarutobi.

But Madara has always been weak for that blinding smile. 

Two quick wood clones later, Madara and Hashirama are running down the side of the Hokage Tower, the entire glittering village spread out before them.

**Hiruzen**

“Tell me again why you didn’t kill Uchiha Madara immediately on sight?” Danzou growls and Hiruzen fights back a sigh.

“The jutsu was supposed to be a gaze into the past, acting like a window from which we could view historical events without obfuscation or misinformation. It was not supposed to be a means of bringing it to the present, this shouldn't have been able to happen with my safeguards, Danzou. Tobirama-sensei’s notes were vague, he never attempted the jutsu and only wrote about it theoretically, mostly concerned with how to focus the jutsu and gain valuable information. But he was worried about the effects of opening said window, and what it would mean if others of that time somehow sensed it. This goes far beyond that, a true question of a time paradox. Are they our past? Or, by their very presence, did we—”

“ _You,_ Hiruzen.”

“…did _I_ , create a parallel branch? On the chance that they _are_ our past and the present is still stable because we send them back to the point of their departure, killing Madara would destroy us. It would corrupt our timeline. We are capable of wiping their memories, but death is not so reversible,” Hiruzen explains slowly. And reanimating a child version of Madara was out of the question.

“And if they are a branch?”

“Well, either their past has completely split off and without Hashirama, the village will most likely never be founded. Or…by the very act tearing into the past, once they passed through, that timeline crumbled. Either way they would be rooted in our present, and not part of our past.”

“And then we could safely kill Madara?”

“Yes, _but_ —”

“No _buts,_ Hiruzen. Your soft heart isn’t getting in the way this time. That is _Uchiha Madara_ and I don’t care if he’s two, twelve, or twenty he is a threat to the village and needs to be eliminated,” Danzou snaps, brown eye burning.

“I wasn’t going to protest killing him, I know who he is, Danzou.” Tobirama-sensei always emphasized the danger Madara presented to the village. He may be a child right now, but he would eventually succumb to the Curse of Hatred, it was only a matter of time. “My concern, however, is Hashirama.”

“What about him?”

“He is…unusually attached to Madara.”

“What?”

“The jutsu didn’t open two windows that conveniently centered around them, there was one and they came through together. They have a clear familiarity and unusual amount of trust between them. I’m quite sure he would react…poorly to us attempting to kill Madara.”

Danzou curses under his breath and paces back and forth, leaning heavily on his cane.

“Could it be genjutsu?”

The thought had crossed Hiruzen’s mind but Hashirama’s eyes were clear and a subtle release when Hiruzen was explaining the village did nothing.

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, they’re children, he could be overpowered,” Danzou says but he frowns as he does so. Even with Danzou's animosity towards the man, he was still Tobirama-sensei's brother.

“He also didn’t hesitate to attack Naruto. Another inch and the boy would’ve been dead.” And then Hiruzen would have failed Minato a third time. And the kyuubi would have been unleashed for another rampage.

“They’re still children. They may be chunin level, maybe even jonin, but they’re not a threat to us.” Danzou stops pacing to stare out at the two boys on the balcony. Hiruzen turns to see Hashirama gesturing widely, a bright grin on his face. “What are we going to do in the meantime, Hiruzen? How long will it take you to determine their status?”

“Truthfully? Months.”

“…months. What are we going to do with them for _months?!_ ”

“Even if I work around the clock on nothing else, this entire situation…” even thinking about it starts to make his head throb. The amount of work to determine what went wrong with the original jutsu, reverse it, then invent a way for them to purposefully _time travel_ , to the exact time they were pulled from…it was months if not years of work and creating an entire new branch of fuinjutsu, made impossibly harder without Uzushiogakure's aid. And it had to be _perfect_ because there were no second chances. Even if it _was_ a parallel branch, he’d have to find a way to determine that beyond all measure of doubt before they could safely kill Madara.

“What are we going to do with them?” Danzou bites out, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Unless we sedate them for _months_ , people will see them, will ask questions. There are now _two_ Uchiha in the village, Hiruzen. There are _two_ mokuton users. And Konoha is hosting the chunin exams this year!”

“The Uchiha were a large clan, we can claim Madara is a bastard whose mother was a non-Uchiha. Orochimaru,” even saying the name pains him, “experimented with the Shodai’s cells before and had proof of its success. We can claim Hashirama is the sole survivor of his group.”

“Fine, but only as a worst-case scenario. I think we should avoid having them out in public at all…costs…” Danzou trails off, his eye narrowing on the boys still on the balcony. “They’ve been in that same position for too long.” He stalks over to the boys, cane tapping menacingly on the floor as Hiruzen follows closely behind.

They don’t react and when he gets closer Hiruzen can see the unnatural blockiness to their forms, the wood grain pattern on their faces. Imperfect wood clones.

Danzou snarls and brings his cane down over Madara’s clone. The wooden features collapse until it’s a misshapen hunk.

“Can you sense them?!” Danzou snarls.

Hiruzen stretches out his sensory skill but between the glut of people in Konoha and Madara knowing without a doubt how to suppress his chakra…

“No.”

“I’m calling in the ANBU.” Danzou spins away while Hiruzen remains frozen in place, hands clenched tightly around the metal railing. Cold wind whips around his body, tugging at his robes. How much trouble could they possibly get into?

**Madara**

“I want you to know, I think this is a bad idea,” Madara crosses his arms and glares at Hashirama.

They’ve been wandering aimlessly down the streets of Konoha for several hours now. It’s all surreal. There are so many different kinds of people, so many different kinds of stores…it was overwhelming. They couldn’t do much more than walk and experience it. But now they’ve wandered into an area noticeably rough compared to the Hokage Tower and other parts of the village. The streets are cracked and the buildings look mismatched and worn, hastily patched with any material available. This, at least, is more familiar to Madara. He’s been masking his chakra by habit, but even with his reduced senses, there aren’t many shinobi around. Instead civilians in odd clothes, bright and shiny with unnaturally colored eyelids and lips walk by and give the two of them strange looks. All of that is a lesser concern though, it’s not like he and Hashirama can’t beat up some people if it came down to it, but…it’s been hours since they ate.

And they have no money.

Madara’s stomach growls and he purposefully ignores Hashirama’s smirk.

“Come on, it’s just asking for a little food,” Hashirama gestures to the tiny ramen shop across the street.

“You have no shame. None.”

“Nope!” Hashirama grins. “Now be serious, do I look cute?” He sticks his lip out and opens his eyes wide until they start to water. Madara watches in disgust as Hashirama sniffles and a single tear drips down his cheek.

He doesn’t bother to answer. Instead, he stomps towards the little ramen bar and throws back the privacy curtains stamped with _Ichiraku Ramen_ as Hashirama sidles up close to him and grabs his arm. He freezes as soon as his eyes lock with the man behind the counter. But Hashirama steps forward, eyes watering as he drags an unwilling Madara with him.

_This is so embarrassing._ But the ramen smells good and he’s hungry.

“Sir—” Hashirama hasn’t even started crying yet when the man sighs and gestures for them to sit at the counter. They take their seats on the red stools. Madara feels Hashirama’s ankle hook around his own.

“Ayame, two servings of miso,” the man tells the woman in front of the stove. He doesn’t take his eyes off them, looking back and forth between Madara and Hashirama. _Does he recognize us?_ He and Hashirama had to have made the village when they were adults, being clan heads only made sense, but how well would people recognize them like this? Madara glares at Hashirama’s bowl cut…that thing was awfully hard to forget…

But the man doesn’t say anything as he sets a bowl in front of each of them. Hashirama immediately snaps a pair of chopsticks and starts eating but Madara hesitates.

“Go on, son, it’s on the house. God knows you look like you need it,” the last bit is muttered under his breath, words Madara barely catches. Because as soon as he heard the first, he descends on his food. Hashirama leans away, avoiding the splash of broth as Madara inhales the noodles.

He’s so focused on his food he doesn’t notice Ayame and the man pausing to stare at him. In minutes, Madara finishes and drains the bowl. He sets it down on the red counter with a click and turns towards Hashirama, who’s eating slowly, a dumb smile on his face.

“Hashi.”

Hashirama’s eyes slide to his as he bites off the noodles.

“We’re _sharing_ , you’re not _taking_ ,” he emphasizes before sliding the bowl towards Madara. Madara descends again, at least he tries. Hashirama knocks away his hand with a glare. He tries again and the other boy shoves him away, hand on Madara’s cheek. “Sharing, Madara, we’re _sharing!_ ”

Madara scoffs and tries to scrabble for the bowl, fingers missing by inches.

“You’re not eating fast enough!”

“I’m enjoying my food unlike someone!”

“I enjoyed it just fine! And now I’m going to enjoy yours!”

“Nope, you lost your chance I’m not sharing anymore!”

Madara knows from experience their squabbling could go on for hours but in that moment they’re broken up by the ramen man setting another bowl on the counter in front of Madara.

“You two definitely have healthy sets of lungs,” the man drawls. Madara glances suspiciously at the bowl and then back up at him. “This one’s free too, if you stop yelling.” That’s all Madara needs to hear to pick up the new bowl and start gulping it down.

“You shouldn’t tell him that, it’ll only encourage him,” Hashirama mutters as he brings more noodles to his mouth. Madara’s arm shoots out and Hashirama nearly topples from his stool from the push.

“Boys—” ramen man sighs and Ayame chuckles. Madara and Hashirama glare at each other just as the curtains are pushed away and a newly familiar voice starts yelling.

“Old man Teuchi! Old man Teuchi! I passed my—hey! It’s you two again!” The same blond boy that burst into the hokage’s office now stands stiffly at the edge of the ramen bar. “You followin’ me or something?” He squints at them.

“You got here last, if anything you’re following us,” Madara grumbles, setting down his second bowl. His stomach doesn’t feel like it’s about to cave in on itself anymore, but Hashirama’s half-finished bowl still looks enticing.

Teuchi sighs and sets a third bowl in front of him.

“I’m not! You two are just in my places,” the boy, Naruto if Madara remembers right, slowly creeps into the bar, keeping a fair distance between himself and them. He hefts himself up onto a seat, four stools apart.

_Oh yeah, Hashirama did almost kill him…_

Madara elbows Hashirama in the side. He whines, a bunch of noodles hanging out of his mouth. Madara jerks his head towards Naruto and glares at Hashirama until he can see realization light up in his eyes. He slurps up his noodles and, in typical Hashirama fashion, leans around Madara to face Naruto with a bright grin.

“Sorry about almost killing you before!” He has a noodle stuck to his cheek.

Madara slams his head down on the counter and reaches blindly for his third bowl.

“Pardon?” Teuchi asks as he sets a fancy pork ramen bowl in front of Naruto. “On the house for passing Kakashi’s test, Naruto.”

**“** Eh? Oh yeah! Thanks old man Teuchi! And uh,” Naruto glances at Hashirama, a bewildered look on his face, “it’s fine. Thanks for saying sorry.” Naruto pulls the pork bowl towards himself but doesn’t start eating. “Um…you’re not going to try and kill me again, right?”

“Didn’t plan to!” Hashirama says around a mouth full of noodles. “Right, Madara?”

Madara grunts and puts down his empty third bowl.

“Son…” Teuchi gives him a look but Madara doesn’t care because he sets down a fourth bowl and Madara drags it closer.

“You guys are pretty weird,” Naruto says but he scoots over a stool, until only three separate him from Madara.

Hashirama gasps and then slumps over his bowl, a dark cloud hanging over his head. “He thinks we’re weird, Madara…no respect, not even now.”

“It’s probably because of your weird clothes and bad hair,” Madara mutters. “But then again I’ve never seen a shinobi wear _orange_ ,” he can still barely bear to look at Naruto head on, “he’s probably a Senju. That’s your legacy Hashirama, bad fashion,” Madara grins and Hashirama collapses fully on the counter, cheek pressed against its hard surface.

“So mean…”

“Hey, hey, hey! What’re you talkin’ about? What’s a Senju? And just so you know,” Naruto stands up on the stool, ignoring Ayame’s quiet plea to get down, “I’m Uzumaki Naruto, number one unpredictable ninja and future Hokage! Believe it!”

_Is everyone in the future dumb?_ Madara wonders. How does he not know what a Senju is? Especially if he’s an _Uzumaki._

Madara rolls his eyes and looks at Hashirama’s depressed form. “See? He’s an Uzumaki, that’s close enough.”

“You know by that reasoning, I could imply there’s not too much difference between you and the Hyuga…” Hashirama trails off and Madara has finally wizened up to his act, he can see the barely there smirk under the depressed façade.

“Don’t you dare,” Madara brandishes his chopsticks like a kunai.

“Wait! You know another Uzumaki?” Naruto scrambles over the remaining three stools until he’s practically on top of Madara, leaning into his space. Madara recoils and barely stops himself from stabbing Naruto as he leans protectively over his ramen.

“Madara gets really touchy about food, so if he stabs you, it’s not personal,” Hashirama adds helpfully.

“Whatever, tell me about the other Uzumaki!”

“I don’t know what you want, _you’re_ an Uzumaki, you should know more about your clan than _me,_ ” Madara growls, inching towards the other edge of his stool to better guard his food. Besides everyone’s safe and happy in the village now. He’s sure Naruto doesn’t want to know about all the tactics the Uchiha made to counter the Uzumaki’s sealing and kill them.

“The Uzumaki are a clan?!”

For the first time, something uneasy settles in Madara’s stomach. Naruto…seriously doesn’t know? Beside him, Hashirama pushes himself to his elbows and leans closer until he’s brushing up against Madara.

“Of course, they are. Land of Whirlpools? The island chain just off Fire Country’s north-eastern coast? Fuinjutsu masters? Huge chakra reserves? Descended from the same ancestor as the Senju clan? It’s kinda weird you’re not a red-head but I guess after several generations that makes sense,” Hashirama says slowly, waiting for any sign of recognition on Naruto’s face. There’s none, but his blue eyes grow wider and wider.

“I didn’t know any of that…I’ve never met another Uzumaki, I thought I was the only one,” he rubs his head sheepishly. Behind the counter Teuchi and Ayame are staring at them with unreadable expressions.

“Why didn’t the Senju take you in? That’s customary.” Madara feels Hashirama’s hand curl around his arm and squeeze.

“I don’t know any Senju, are they a clan too?”

Hashirama makes a low noise, his hand tightening until the point of pain.

“Clans…do exist here, right?” Madara asks as he glances worryingly at Hashirama. They don’t know _how_ they made the village and one throwaway idea Madara had originally dismissed was the dissolution of the clan structure. Sure, it might work for the Uzumaki, who’s kekkei genkai was rare and only could be wielded by women. And maybe the Senju, Hashirama claimed the mokuton was one but despite it never appearing in the Uchiha stone-tablets, but for the Uchiha? The Hyuga? Not possible. “We’ve met a Sarutobi and a Shimura, that means the Yamanaka, Akimichi, and Nara are here too. And the Uchiha, since they helped found the village.” 

“Yeah clans exist, and they think they’re _so_ great,” Naruto mutters, crossing his arms. Madara and Hashirama both open their mouths, ready to demand what happened to the Senju but Naruto keeps talking. “Shikamaru and Choji aren’t the worst but Ino? She’s so mean, and it’s nothing but Sasuke-bastard this, Sasuke-bastard _that._ And now I’m on a team with him and I get he’s special and all ‘cause he’s the last Uchiha but—”

“The last Uchiha?” Madara interrupts. “What happened to the others?” His heart starts to pound and by Naruto’s sudden wince and Teuchi’s carefully blank expression he knows it’s bad. _Did they leave? Why would they leave the village? Did the clan dissolve? Why would they cast off their name—_

“Um…” Naruto trails off, absently tracing his finger on the counter’s surface.

“What happened—”

“The Uchiha Massacre,” Teuchi finally says, “Four years ago, Uchiha Itachi massacred every man, woman, and child in his clan. All of them are dead except his little brother Sasuke.”

Madara’s chopsticks clatter to the ground.

“That can’t be right. An _Uchiha_ turned against other Uchiha? No way.” Hashirama’s words are distorted, like Madara’s trying to listen to him underwater.

_They’re dead…they’re all…dead?_

It’s unthinkable.

They can’t…his _family_ …

Madara’s skin feels too tight. He’s burning, he’s freezing. All the ramen he ate sits like a heavy stone in his gut. He’s going to be sick. His heart is pounding faster than a trapped rabbit’s. Madara doesn’t realize he’s started to hyperventilate, his hands clutching desperately at his yukata as his chest heaves and shakes, until Hashirama loosens his grip on Madara’s arm.

The change is enough to set him off.

His eyes prick and reality ripples. One eye burns, burns, _burns_ and Madara can practically see the second tomoe appear in his mind’s eye. He’s off his stool, running out of the ramen bar with a primal desperation to get _away._

He sees, but doesn’t process, Teuchi and Ayame’s shocked faces.

“Madara!” Hashirama scrambles behind him, chasing after him.

Madara crosses the space in two jittery steps and bumps into the next customer trying to enter.

“Sorry Naruto, I got held up—”

Madara shoves the man back, absently taking in his features: brown skin, scar across his nose, shoulder-length hair, and rushes past.

“Madara, wait! H-hey! Let me go!”

Madara is outside in the unfamiliar village. The setting sun spills red light across the buildings and streets. He turns towards the only semi-familiar thing in sight, the cliff-face with its four unfamiliar heads. He’s racing blindly towards it when he hears the familiar creak of mokuton wood, the resounding crack and subsequent splintering. If he looked back, he’d see part of the floor and one wall of Ichiraku Ramen warped as Hashirama broke free of the new man’s grasp.

“Madara!”

Madara doesn’t stop running.

**Iruka**

Umino Iruka is a simple man. It’s not a bad thing. In fact, he takes comfort in his life of simplicity. He’s here to teach children and offer them a solid foundation before the cruel shinobi world rips them apart. All of his children are precious, and he makes an effort to remember all of their names even after they’ve long since graduated. But Iruka will admit Naruto has a special spot in his heart.

Which is why he was nervous when the Sandaime assigned him, Sasuke, and Sakura on _Kakashi’s_ team. He spent all day at the Hokage Tower doing paperwork, biting his nails and waiting for the result. It was a poorly kept secret that shinobi were the worst gossips, scaling disproportionally to experience. The only gossips worse than the jonin were the ANBU and above them the Hokage himself. And no matter the outcome, Team 7 would be the hottest news of the day. 

But then Naruto himself barged in, bragging and smiling, and Iruka almost collapsed with relief.

Naruto was insistent that he tell the Sandaime and Iruka promised to meet him at Ichiraku’s afterward.

Iruka never expected to run into a ghost.

The child bumped into him and Iruka saw the impossible. Two red sharingan eyes, the right with one tomoe, the left with two. He had bags underneath his eyes and skin that stretched too thin over pointy cheekbones and chin. _Malnourished._

It wasn’t Sasuke.

_It wasn’t Sasuke._

The Uchiha child pushes past Iruka’s stunned form. He barely grabs the second one, only years of reflexively snatching up children before they could hurt themselves prevail. Still, he almost loses his grip when the child shouts: “Madara, wait! H-hey! Let me go!”

_Madara? As in Uchiha Madara?_

It’s almost funny.

It’s less funny when the wriggling child in his arms slaps his hands together and the wooden wall and floor come alive to grab Iruka. He drops the boy, who darts out of the ramen bar with another shout.

_Mokuton? Is that supposed to be Senju Hashirama too?_ Iruka wants to laugh because otherwise he thinks he’ll scream.

**Hashirama**

Hashirama runs. He runs as fast as he can but he still loses sight of Madara in the twists and turns of the streets. Hashirama has always been the stronger of the two of them, but Madara is faster. Way faster. Still, he doesn’t stop running or shouting Madara's name. If he wasn’t so panicked and more aware of his surroundings, he’d notice how some people, especially older people, flinched whenever he did.

But Hashirama wasn’t thinking clearly. The Uchiha…the Uchiha were _dead_ , all but one. And that Uzumaki kid had never heard of his own clan or Hashirama’s which probably meant…

This wasn’t supposed to happen. The village was supposed to be safe! It was supposed to be a place he and Madara could be together. A place to protect their families, their brothers, where kids didn't have to kill each other ever again, not result in their clans being completely wiped out! Hashirama pushes that thought _down._ He can’t afford to think about it now, he has to find Madara.

Hashirama isn’t a sensor, but he does know Madara. And when Madara gets stressed he likes to curl up and hide in familiar places. Hashirama changes course and turns towards their cliff.

_But where is he now?_ Hashirama wonders as he runs straight up the cliff face. They were here just this morning, but everything has changed. The faces and the village below him, the few buildings up here on the plateau and a new strange forest that wasn’t here before.

_This is all different, would the caves be different too?_ Madara had a knack for finding small caves and crevices. Whenever they played hide and seek, he always chose to hide in them. And there was one _specific_ cave just off of the plateau that he was especially fond of.

Hashirama finds the familiar entrance as the sun slips below the horizon and darkness creeps over the land. _I need to head home before Father gets suspicious._ Hashirama thinks out of habit. But he doesn’t. Butsuma isn’t here. It’s their village and they doesn’t have to hide their friendship.

“Madara?” Hashirama gets down on his knees to peer into the darkness. This isn’t much of a cave but rather an old animal burrow under a rocky shelf. As he lowers his head, he sees a flash of red and two glowing eyes. “I’m coming in, okay?”

When he doesn’t hear any protest Hashirama twists until he can slide down the small slope and tumble to a stop next to Madara. He’s hunched over, knees drawn tight to his chest. It’s not a big space, but Hashirama still has to shuffle closer, palms scraping against rock and dirt until he can wrap his hands around Madara’s shaking form. He smells faintly like vomit; he must have thrown up somewhere outside.

Hashirama pushes down that worry too, even as he feels the too-sharp bones under his skin.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Hashirama soothes, one hand locked around Madara’s shoulders, the other running through his coarse hair.

“It’s not. They’re all _dead._ I failed…I must have failed, it’s my fault,” Madara’s voice is ragged. He collapses against Hashirama’s chest, body seizing with a sob.

Hashirama knows Madara has a different view of responsibility than him. Hashirama would be the next Senju head, as much as Butsuma disliked it, but Tobirama would help him. The Senju have a leader, but also a council made up of elders and other main branch inheritors. And, while the concept of being clan head itself was still nebulous, someone would have to come after him. Leadership would be Hashirama’s burden, but not his alone. And eventually he would pass that burden on to someone altogether.

Hashirama isn’t sure if the Uchiha are all different or if it’s just Madara, but he always treated everything as if it was his personal responsibility and he was still just the heir! It was Madara’s job to listen to the adults. It was Madara’s job to be a perfect prodigy. It was Madara’s job to protect his brother. It was Madara’s job to protect the entire clan. And if anything happened to the Uchiha it would be Madara’s _fault_.

They were at war, and Madara took every death as his own personal failing, one that he had to correct but could never completely atone for.

So _now_ …

“It’s not your fault. We’ve probably been dead for a long time,” and wasn’t _that_ creepy to think about, “and ramen man said it happened four years ago. It’s not your fault.” Hashirama rocks them back and forth, squeezing Madara as tight as he can. “Madara, what Uchiha would kill other Uchiha? Unless something radically changed,” _something besides the village_ , Hashirama thinks with a wince, “that just can’t be true. So, it can’t be your fault.”

“They’re all _dead_ , Hashirama! Someone is responsible and as clan head when the village was founded, it should have been up to me to make sure nothing like that could happen! Otherwise, what even is the point of the village, if it can’t protect them? It’s supposed to be _safe_ not lead to everyone’s death!” Madara cries, his hands clenching into fists around Hashirama’s haori.

_It’s so we can be together_. A place they could spend every day together as well as a place where their brothers, their clans, could be safe. No more fighting, no more war. That was Hashirama’s dream, that was _their_ dream.

“Well…think of this as…as practice!” The words escape him before Hashirama can really process what he’s saying.

“Practice? For accepting that my clan is going to die?!” Madara raises his head. Hashirama can barely make out the angry curl of his lip from the fading light and red sharingan glow.

“No, of course not! But Madara we’re in the _future_ which means we’re not in the past where we’re supposed to be. So, the Sandaime has to send us back at some point, right? Which means,” he cups Madara’s cheeks and leans in close, “we can change it.”

Madara squints at him. “Is that how time travel works? Because the Sandaime’s explanation was vague and confusing—”

“Yeah, yeah, I think so! Tobirama was telling me all about it!”

“Tobirama is _eight_ , Hashirama. And I bet you weren’t even paying attention!”

“I was…mostly. It’s not like I thought it was going to _matter,_ okay? But what I said makes _sense._ We founded the village, so we have to be in the past to found it, soooo we have to be sent back.” The more he thinks about it the more Hashirama likes this idea. “But since we’re here now, we can learn about everything that worked and things that didn’t and then not make those mistakes! Madara, this is just like sparring before a fight, we can only make things better!”

“Okay, but then why aren’t things constantly changing around us by new decisions we made in the past? Or is everything fixed so this is our future no matter what?” Madara asks. The question hurts Hashirama’s head, but if nothing else it has distracted Madara. He’s not crying or shaking anymore.

“Um, I don’t think anything will change until we actually go back to the past. Then it’ll…uh, happen all at once? But since we’re here now, it won’t,” Hashirama says with more confidence than he feels. He’s not smart like Tobirama, he’s good at talking and fighting but things with papers and books make him break out in hives.

Hashirama fidgets in place, thumbs absently tracing circles on Madara’s skin while the other boy mulls over his words. Hashirama can barely see him now, but he’s seen Madara’s _thinking really hard_ face enough times to picture it in his head. It’s very similar to his _Hashirama you’re an idiot_ face.

“…that makes sense, I think,” Madara says slowly, and Hashirama bites down the instinctive ‘it does?’ that wants to escape. He’s supposed to be instilling confidence right now! “And if we really _can_ change the future…you’re right Hashi. This is our chance to make sure the best version of our dream comes true! I won’t let my clan die! I’ll protect them no matter what! We can figure out what went wrong with the Senju and Uzumaki, too! We’ll have all the answers, we’ll know how to do it right!” 

Hashirama feels Madara’s cheeks stretch into a grin and he can’t help but crush him in a hug. “It’ll work out as long as we’re together,” he whispers as Madara hugs him back. Hashirama’s chest is too tight and tears prick at his eyes, he’s about burst from relief and happiness. As long as they’re together, everything will be alright. Nothing can go wrong with Madara by his side.

**Kakashi**

Kakashi is a straightforward man. Which is why, when the ANBU agent comes for him in the evening and brings him to Hiruzen’s office where the old man tells him to track down _Uchiha Madara_ and _Senju Hashirama_ , Kakashi only has one thing to say.

“Ma, ma, Sandaime-sama, I didn’t know someone stole your zombies, left the door unlocked, did you?” Kakashi is a loyal Konoha shinobi, but he sees the rot underneath. And Hiruzen, despite any good intentions, has always been at its center.

But the man’s next words, delivered with sober intensity, explaining an incident that brought the living, breathing founders, the Ghost of the Uchiha and the God of Shinobi _here_ …

“Bring them in, Kakashi. They can’t be allowed to roam unsupervised in the village.” The underlying threat was clear. Uchiha Madara had attacked the village once and was barely defeated by the Shodai.

The only interesting thing, Kakashi thinks as Pakkun sniffs the ancient robes Hiruzen gave him, is that Hiruzen didn’t say the Shodai would stop Madara a second time. From the implication to bring them _both_ back, Hashirama had been kidnapped or willingly left with Madara over the Sandaime’s orders.

And then there was the fact that Kakashi alone had been assigned the task. Kakashi is an elite among elites but he’s not prideful enough to think he stood a chance against a god or a ghost. Unless their mythical status was greatly exaggerated, which, judging by the Valley of the End and the many, _many_ redrawn maps he's seen in the Hokage's library doesn't think so, they could barely count as _human_ in terms of power.

_Something’s not adding up._

It takes Pakkun longer than normal to pick up the scent and Kakashi still has to keep the red and white robes on hand for him to return and scent check every few minutes.

“Just don’t smell right, boss. Something’s…off,” Pakkun mutters, nose against the ground as they slowly make their way into a rough part of the village. They’re not far from Naruto’s apartment, this area is directly on the ANBU guard route. Eventually Pakkun leads him to Ichiraku’s and Kakashi whistles long and low.

The front of the ramen bar is busted, floor and wall twisted until it reaches out into an abstract hand. The privacy curtains are tangled up and all of the lights have been turned off. Passersbys eye the strange development but Ichiraku’s is known for its ninja clientele. This isn’t the first time something _strange_ has happened but unless Tenzo snapped, no one should be able to twist the wood in such a way.

_Hunting a god and a ghost, what a life, eh Obito?_

Kakashi turns away and lets Pakkun sniff the robe once again. They round a few streets, passing buildings and people out too late, working men and women that eye Kakashi and his ninken with wary gazes. Pakkun winds through several random back alleys but the Hokage mountain looms above them, growing larger and larger.

Sure enough, Pakkun stops at the base of the cliff face before tilting his head, up, up, up.

“Ma, Pakkun what are the chances I don’t get skewered on a scythe, I wonder?” Kakashi asks as he and the ninken start running straight up. He likes to think he’s been successful but he’s about to fight a myth, with no promise that the God of Shinobi will be in a position to help him.

They crest the top. The only visible light is from the half-moon dangling above and the lights of Konoha spread out underneath. Here on the top of the cliff, no longer under the previous Hokages’ eyes, Kakashi feels strangely detached and untethered from the village.

His sandals crunch over rocks and dirt and a cold wind blows through the nearby trees, rattling the budding spring leaves. Pakkun circles several times, losing the scent and re-doubling until he eventually stops at a small crack under a rocky shelf. It’s too small for any grown man, let alone a man the size of the Shodai, to fit in. There’s no evidence of any jutsu.

Kakashi looks down and meets Pakkun’s eyes. Pakkun shrugs, as best a dog can, and looks at the crack.

“I dunno boss, scent stops here.”

“Circle around, see if it picks up again.”

For the next hour they do exactly that, branching out further and further in hunting circles. Pakkun has tracked down enemies in every kind of weather, through all means of hiding their scent and chakra, but he never finds so much a hint of the scent in the forest.

Just the crack in the earth.

Kakashi sighs and rests one hand on his hip. “If this kills me, I want every Icha Icha volume willed to Gai. Tell him it’ll help him channel his youthful energy or something.” Kakashi gets down on his hands and knees and peers into the hole. It’s pitch black, of course.

But then as he starts to inch closer, wondering if a doton would be best, even if it might be a faster way to die, he hears something. Something like fabric scraping against stone and then a low hum.

Kakashi tenses but nothing else happens.

_This is a bad idea._ He forms a katon sign and pushes chakra into his palm like he would a chidori. A small wavering flame flicks to life above his hand and a pair of glowing, blood red eyes snap open in the hole.

_Ah shi—_

Kakashi shushins away just as a burst of flame erupts from the den. He reappears in a tree and pulls a kunai from his pouch. He’s about to lift up his forehead protector, this won’t be a battle to do by halves, when Kakashi actually _sees_ the figures that scramble out.

_The sharingan only had three tomoe in total._

It’s a realization that fully sinks in when Kakashi sees the _children._ Dusty and dirty, backlit by flames, there’s no doubt they’re no older than his new cute little genin team.

And murderous.

_Very_ murderous.

Kakashi shushins out of the way of another stream of fire, only for vines to burst up from the ground and reach for him.

And, unless Tenzo reverted to a child, that is definitely Senju Hashirama. Also trying to murder him.

He dodges the vines and jumps to the ground. Immediately the red eyes are right in front of him. Madara is not a particularly strong hitter, but he is fast. In all of the myths of the terrifying Uchiha Madara, none have mentioned his speed. And, as Kakashi is forced to try and anticipate his movements, uncannily similar to how he used to try and anticipate Minato-sensei, before the kunai in Madara’s hand slips past his guard, Kakashi thinks that was a grave oversight.

It doesn’t help that vines slither up from underground, reaching to trap him or trip him. Vines that Madara moves effortlessly around and give him time to form more hand signs and spit fire. Hashirama slips into the fight, adding another layer of difficulty, and Kakashi thinks he could lose.

He knows the history of the village is little more than propaganda, but what little they’re taught before twisting children into child soldiers is that Uchiha Madara surrendered after being bested by Senju Hashirama. Nowhere were the clan heads anything more than enemies before the creation of the village.

Kakashi deflects Madara’s blows, kunai meeting kunai in a clash of steel and he manages to shove the child back. His victory is short-lived, Hashirama uses the opening, snapping his foot into Kakashi’s ribs and reaching out to grab Madara and swing him around in a move that the most intuitive teams with years of experience would struggle with.

_Only enemies, yeah right._ Kakashi thinks as the tiny terror’s legs wrap around his neck. Kakashi struggles to breathe. His ribs ache, definitely bruised, maybe broken. He manages to twist in time so Madara’s kunai sinks into his shoulder, not his neck. He dodges Hashirama’s next kick, his blows are heavy but nowhere near Madara’s speed, and the next burst of vines before grabbing Madara’s ankle and throwing him off. 

“Pakkun!”

He needs a moment to catch his breath and rethink this confrontation. Kakashi doesn’t want to kill them, was told explicitly not to, but fighting to kill these two would be easier than fighting to capture.

Pakkun responds and as Madara’s body hits the ground, the ninken is on him. Pakkun is small, not the pack’s combat specialist, but a threat nonetheless. He’s torn grown men apart, ripped them limb from limb just as the other ninken have.

Kakashi hears Madara’s choked off cry of pain and his standoff with Hashirama finally ends. The other boy’s head whips towards Madara and he’s running without giving Kakashi a backward glance. Kakashi dismisses Pakkun before either boy could land a hit and rushes through a clone-body substitution.

He reappears in a tree while a clone stands in the place he just was.

Further away, Hashirama pulls Madara to his feet. The boy is clutching at his left forearm, yukata torn and dirty as blood gushes from the wound. Kakashi raises his headband and frowns. That looks like a critical wound. He’ll have to finish this quickly and get a tourniquet before the boy bleeds out—

Glowing green chakra surrounds Hashirama’s hands and wrap around to cover Madara’s injured forearm.

_Dammit Hiruzen._ Kakashi didn’t expect the old man to tell him every little detail of this _mishap_ but the bare minimum to complete this mission would have been nice. Especially the fact that he was fighting an experienced _duo,_ not just two ninja who may be working together.

Shinobi only let those they trusted with their lives heal them.

It was why teams were encouraged to each have their own med-nin and why even as adults the hospital was the last place you’d find any seasoned ninja unless forced. The tactic of attacking med-nin was two purpose. To cut off the enemies’ ability to be healed, and to stop the enemy med-nin from using their jutsu on downed allies. Interrogation was worse than a quick death and a med-nin who knew how to knit flesh together and heal physical damage knew how to cause agony and deaden nerves until enemy shinobi had no means of escape and were permanently crippled. 

The line between the two was razor-thin and could change in an instant.

And of course, Tsunade’s talent was inherited.

In mere moments, Madara flexes his bloody but uninjured arm.

He looks up, blood-red eyes on the clone that shifts into a fighting stance. In the tree, Kakashi pulls out a set of kunai with binding tags. If he can get behind them…

“Clone,” Madara says and his eyes flick up towards Kakashi’s tree, “real one is in the tree.”

_A sharingan sensor, goddammit Hiruzen—_

Kakashi jumps from the branch as another fireball comes barreling towards him. From the corner of his eye, he sees a sharpened spear of wood punch straight through the clone’s chest. The static shock is rendered useless.

“Don’t suppose you two would believe me if I said I was sent to bring you back to the Sandaime?” Kakashi asks.

“You should have tried that one before attacking us,” Hashirama mutters, slamming his hands together.

In the raging firelight his eyes almost look _yellow_ and Kakashi swears if there’s an unnamed Senju dojutsu he wasn’t told about; he’s going to start actively encouraging Naruto’s to harass Hiruzen. Hashirama’s attacks have also changed from obstructive into actively lethal. Kakashi dances around wooden spears that erupt from the ground, always aiming at his vital points.

_Someone’s upset that Madara got injured._

And speaking of terror number one, he’s definitely seen Obito’s sharingan. Kakashi can practically smell the hostility emanating from him.

“Technically, I didn’t attack you,” Kakashi says as he kicks Madara away and the boy twists and pulls himself up on one of the spikes to launch himself again. Kakashi dodges another spear and jumps back to avoid Madara’s kunai. “I was sent find you by the Sandaime, but he failed to mention you were children, not adults. The trail ended at a child sized hidey-hole; you can understand my confusion.”

“And why should we believe an eye-thief? You think I don’t know what that scar means?!” Madara snarls, kunai aiming for Kakashi’s throat. Not for the first time Kakashi laments the perfectly straight scar over his eyelid. Obito never returned from that mission and it was only Kakashi and Rin’s words that it was a gift and not stolen. The thief’s mark did next to nothing to convince the Uchiha otherwise.

“‘Blessed are the eyes of Indra, a gift from the Sun Herself. Blessed are the eyes freely given while the heart still beats. Blessed is the left eye of Uchiha Obito. Blessed is the left eye of Hatake Kakashi.’” Kakashi repeats by heart. Obito’s final words before making Kakashi promise to protect Rin. Madara falters and draws back, eyes narrowed in a calculating expression. Hashirama stops by his side.

“When did you get the eye?”

“Fourteen years ago.”

“Name your students.”

_What?_ Kakashi narrows his eyes, but the effect is ruined by focusing just over Madara’s shoulder instead of looking directly into his eyes.

“Haruno Sakura, Uchiha Sasuke, and Uzumaki Naruto.” Kakashi doesn’t know where this is leading but they have stopped fighting for the moment. The forest around them continues to burn, a considerable fire that should be visible from the village but isn’t in danger of consuming it…yet.

“Oh! The Uzumaki from the ramen bar!” Hashirama looks at Madara, hostile expression sliding off his face.

_Of course, Naruto managed to find them._ Why did he expect anything less from Minato-sensei’s son?

“You’re really a Konoha nin? You were sent by the Sarutobi?” Madara asks.

“Yep. He said you two ran away, he was worried you got lost in the village.” It wasn’t technically a lie, only the lesser truth of Sandaime worrying that Madara was about to burn the village down.

“Ugh, he was too busy talking to that creepy advisor,” Hashirama folds his arms behind his head and the tension bleeds from Madara’s shoulders, “we wanted to explore so we did. It’s _our_ village, after all.”

Madara nods in agreement and Kakashi sighs in relief when he blinks and his eyes turn black. Kakashi holsters his own kunai and pulls his headband down. His adrenaline is starting to wear off and he can feel every bruise and small cut, his busted ribs and the deep throbbing wound on his shoulder. He didn't use the Sharingan enough for it to be a problem, but the eye pulses angrily anyway. 

“We should probably put out the fires before leaving,” Madara glances back at the flames and as much as he doesn’t want to, Kakashi has to agree.

After a fumbling, awkward moment Kakashi ducks away from the two terrors to perform a suiton, or at least he tries to. To his surprise, Hashirama follow him after he and Madara have a silent conversation with a lot of pointed looks and exaggerated huffs until Madara rolls his eyes and walks away.

“Uh, yes?” Kakashi slumps forward, hands in his pockets. He’s ready for this night to end. He expected the God of Shinobi not this baby godling. For the first time, Kakashi really _looks_ at child that became the strongest man in the world.

The bowl-cut is hideous.

Gai must never be allowed to see him.

“You’re a tracker, right? That’s why you work with ninken despite not being an Inuzuka?” Hashirama asks with a smile.

“Yeah…” _Where is this going?_

Kakashi soon has his answer: nowhere.

Hashirama starts rambling on about something tangentially related to dogs? He tries to follow along for a few seconds before giving up altogether and letting the boy’s voice become background chatter. Instead, Kakashi forms his suiton signs and starts to douse the fires. It’s annoying, spitting water through his mask, and he can’t help but glare down at the still-rambling child.

And Hashirama keeps rambling.

The.

Entire.

Time.

They make their way towards Madara and Kakashi desperately wants to hoist terror number two back onto terror number one. But before he can, Hashirama reaches up to tug on his sleeve. It jostles his injured shoulder and Kakashi barely bites back a wince when he looks down at the grinning boy.

“You were listening to me, right Hatake?” He asks, eyes crinkled shut from size of his smile.

“Uh-huh,” they’re almost to Madara. It’s a relief Kakashi didn’t know could exist, one that seemed impossible even twenty minutes ago.

“Great! That’s the best thing about the village, after all. Everyone knows how much Madara means to me,” _when did he start talking about Madara,_ “because he is, you know. My best friend. My most precious person.”

Hashirama is still smiling when he yanks hard on Kakashi’s injured arm. This time Kakashi can’t hold back his snarl and flinch. Hashirama brings his hands together into one mokuton sign and every spike of wood retracts back into the ground. He keeps holding the sign though, medical chakra covering his hands once again.

He’s _still_ smiling, the green light forming sharp, sinister shadows on his face.

“I’m a med-nin, you know. I’d be happy to look at your injuries.”

The light brightens, the shadows deepen, and Kakashi feels the first stirring of actual disquiet and fear in his gut.

“Hashirama! I’m done, stop messing around!” Madara yells and the spell breaks.

Hashirama’s smile shrinks into something smaller and more real. He turns away from Kakashi, again without a backward look, to run and crash headfirst into Madara. Kakashi lets out a slow breath, trying to calm his pounding heart.

This, he thinks as he watches Hashirama trail his hands over Madara’s face and chest, definitely unnecessary for simple healing, is not his problem.

“This is your problem,” Hiruzen mutters, handing him two keys and a slip of paper, “at least for tonight. Your replacement tomorrow will be capable of controlling Madara along with one Danzou’s people.”

“Sandaime-sama,” Kakashi says cheerily as he crushes the paper and keys in his fist, “I’m a jonin-sensei, remember? I have a responsibility to train my genin tomorrow, bright and early.”

Hiruzen stares unblinkingly at him, huffing on his pipe. Kakashi stares back.

On the far side of the office Hashirama and Madara sit pressed together, a map of the village spread open between them.

“Kakashi, I am not above begging. This is an unprecedented situation that has spiraled out of control. The ANBU have been talking," _gossiping_ , "the village knows there’s a second Uchiha. The clans are already demanding answers and we don’t yet know how long they’re going to be here.”

Kakashi hums but doesn’t say anything. Hiruzen explained the bare-bones situation to him and the two terrors. Unknown amount of time to fix the jutsu that landed them here, probably _months,_ and they needed to be supervised. The village needed a reason for them to suddenly spring from the wood-work, just public enough to appease the clans, and out of the way for normal civilians before they panicked.

A genin team.

Hiruzen wanted to assign the God of Shinobi and the Ghost of the Uchiha to a _genin team._

Kakashi feels a sudden rush of relief that he didn’t fail Team 7, otherwise he _knows_ it’d be his ass that would be responsible for them. They’d have to do actual D level missions to keep up the ruse, though Kakashi has no doubt Hiruzen and Danzou will eventually get over their disgust of having Madara around and assign them ANBU level assassination contracts. An elite team masquerading as genin had a lot of potential uses, especially as they did international missions.

There were always rumors from Suna and Kiri plus the Akatsuki surfaced every few years to cause an international headache.

Keeping them out of the village too would probably be best. Madara was going to find out about the Uchiha sooner rather than later, if he hasn’t already. Kakashi saw how morose he was when Hiruzen first gave them the map and Madara’s hand hovered over the Uchiha compound. But the larger issue, the bomb waiting to go off, would be Madara’s death.

In the long walk back to the Hokage Tower, Kakashi accepted he has no idea what the real history of the village is. Too much time and propaganda has passed for that. But the one that people will tell the terrors, Madara betrayed the village, attacked it, and then Hashirama killed him…won’t go over well.

Before Kakashi would have bet his money on Madara being the one to snap and attack, and he still might, what with the Uchiha Massacre and both the Nidaime and Sandaime’s treatment of the clan. But now…

Kakashi glances at the terrors as Hiruzen continues to stress how important it is they keep everything under control between pipe huffs.

Now if someone told Hashirama he killed Madara after the other betrayed the village…Kakashi isn’t sure the unfortunate messenger would be alive after that conversation. His ribs twinge in pain. If Madara _did_ find out about his clan and decide to defect a second time Hashirama would go with him.

Then what? They were stuck here until Hiruzen fixed the jutsu and would undoubtedly have the Yamanaka wipe their memories.

_This is too complicated._ Kakashi pinches the bridge of his nose and turns away from Hiruzen. He’s still bleeding and he can feel a rib, definitely broken, pressing painfully into his lung. The sooner he escorts them back and plays watchdog over Madara, the sooner he can patch himself up and crawl into bed before his afternoon training with Team 7.

“Oi, terrors, come on. I’m showing you your new places,” Kakashi slouches over, reliving the barest pressure on his shoulder and rib, fighting against a sigh of relief. 

Madara looks up first, confused until Kakashi jerks his head towards the door.

“Come on, Hashi, he’s…he’s talking to us,” the boy fights through a yawn and Kakashi is struck once again by how _young_ they are.

Child soldiers. Madara stands, rubbing his eyes as Hashirama sluggishly follows, map in his hand. Cold-blooded killers. Hashirama throws an arm around Madara’s shoulders, making him grumble and shift to accommodate Hashirama’s weight. Nothing’s changed. All this time and they’re still at square one.

Kakashi turns and walks out.

He knows as soon as he reads the nearest address Madara’s apartment is shit. Center of the slums, the poorest block in Konoha that would make some other parts of the red-light district look safe and welcoming by comparison. Hashirama’s isn’t much better, it’s right on the edge in the kind of apartment-style that favored new ninja who didn’t have clan compounds to fall back on.

_Deal with terror number two first._ He’d have to backtrack anyway to keep watch over Madara and Kakashi was in no mood to walk across the entire red-light district with Hashirama alone. It was slow going, the boys getting sidetracked to stare up at the bright lanterns and blinking lights. They’re still on the edge, so most shops have a legal cover, late-night parlors, private drinking bars, closed clubs. Kakashi nudges them along, it’s a bad idea to stop and stare at anything in the red-light district, even here in relative safety. Not that Kakashi thinks someone would actually get the jump on the terrors, but two supposedly genin level students killing civilians, even in self-defense, would be messy.

Finally, they make it to the apartment block, recently renovated and still mostly vacant. Kakashi unlocks door and ushers them up six flights of stairs.

“Why couldn’t we just run up the side?” Madara mutters when they finally reach the right landing.

“Civilians don’t care for twelve-year-olds running up the sides of buildings,” Kakashi says as he unlocks the apartment door. “Don’t do it.”

“This is a ninja village; they should be used to it.” Hashirama says through a yawn.

“ _Anyways,_ I’m going to wash the blood off and then we’ll head to your apartment, Madara.” Kakashi steps in and flips the light on. It’s a small studio apartment, minimally furnished, but clean.

“I thought Hashirama and I were sharing,” Madara says before Kakashi can escape to the small bathroom. He turns back to see not one, but two stubborn, petulant faces and wishes he told the initial ANBU agent to leave and find someone else. How again did this become his problem?

“Is Madara’s little house through one of the other nearby doors?” Hashirama asks.

“No, it’s in a different building. Forty-minute walk or so by civilian speed.” As soon as he says it, Kakashi knew he shouldn’t have. Madara, ironically the easier terror to deal with, scowls and crosses his arms while moving further into the apartment.

“No, I’m not leaving. I refuse.” Kakashi is surprised this little declaration isn’t accompanied with stomping. “Show me where the basin is so I can wash up and sleep.” He glares up at Kakashi.

“I don’t mind! I wanna share, so there’s really no reason Madara can’t live here.” Hashirama slides between them, relatching onto Madara’s arm. He had been forced to let him go when they were climbing the stairs.

_Except that Hiruzen and Danzou might have an aneurysm each._

Kakashi can see the bed. The one, singular twin-sized bed.

_This is not my problem._

He pivots and heads towards the bathroom. He almost gets the door closed, but Hashirama shoves his foot in the door at the last second.

“What’s this? Why’s the door the same one as outside?” Hashirama pushes his way in, dragging Madara with him.

“This house is strange. A tiny box next to other tiny boxes, no shoji, no tatami, and now that. What is that?” Madara points at the toilet and Kakashi doesn’t know whether he should laugh or cry.

He’s definitely encouraging Naruto to deface the Hokage mountain tomorrow. Kakashi’s ribs twinge. _Definitely._

Twenty minutes later, he’s successfully explained the basics of plumbing and electricity to the terrors with only a…few mishaps. Kakashi turns on the sink faucet and immediately gets shoved aside as the two terrors crowd around it to stare. A quick explanation of the toilet and flushing it. He has to pull them away before they try to take off the tank cover. The shower, especially hot water, is met with fascination and Kakashi getting drenched as he struggles to keep Hashirama out of the stream.

Of course Madara slips by him, standing under the water fully clothed.

“Hn, this _is_ admittedly superior to a wash basin.”

Kakashi gives up and lets Hashirama go. Terror two scrambles into the tub and nearly knocks terror one over in his haste. Kakashi goes and finds the thin, cheap towels. After leaving their clothes out to dry on the shower rod, they make their way to the kitchen.

It takes ten minutes to explain the microwave.

Ten. Minutes.

And Madara still looks suspicious at the end.

The fridge and freezer are met with similar fanfare as the shower, and Kakashi has to grip Hashirama by his towel so he doesn’t try to squeeze into the fridge. Finally, the lights. Kakashi flicks the light switch off and then on. Then he watches as Madara and Hashirama take turns rapidly flipping it up and down. The bulb sputters out with a hiss and Madara lights his hand on fire. Not a flame above it. His entire hand. On fire. Kakashi doesn't question this.

Instead, he goes to finds a spare lightbulb.

“Don’t drop this, it’ll break.” He hands the dead bulb to Hashirama.

Hashirama drops it.

Glass shatters on the floor and all three of them stare down at it.

“Why didn’t you catch it?” Kakashi looks at Madara. “You’re fast enough.”

“I wanted to see if it’d break.”

“It’s _glass._ ”

“Didn’t look like any glass I’d ever seen.”

Kakashi cleans it up and with that he’s done.

“Here, have a rations bar and go to bed. I’ll be on roof until your sensei gets here tomorrow.” He throws the bar and Madara snatches it out of the air. He also tries to bite directly into it and gets a mouth full of plastic. _God are all twelve-year-olds like this?_ Kakashi suddenly has a foreboding feeling about Team 7 as he makes his way back to the bathroom. He closes and locks the door, not that it’d do a lot of good if the terrors really decided they need in.

He’s surprised there’s no squabbling over the food and soon the apartment falls suspiciously quiet. Kakashi treats his wounds the best he can, wrapping his ribs, cleaning and stitching up his shoulder.

Once he’s finished and the bathroom is clean, he leaves.

To his complete and utter expectation, the terrors are curled tightly together on the bed, towels discarded haphazardly on the floor. The only unexpected thing, if he could even call it that, was Hashirama was splayed out on his back, arms dangling off the bed. It was Madara who was clinging and curled tightly to his chest.

_Not my problem._

Let Tenzo deal with it, poor bastard.

**Tenzo**

Tenzo isn’t exactly unhappy with this situation. He’s feeling a lot of things, so much that it’s hard to sort through all the emotions and he winds up more numb than anything. He’s not sure if that’s echoes of ROOT’s programming after all these years or just the incredibly strange situation he’s found himself in.

Because, oddly enough, this is exactly what he’s always wanted just…warped a bit.

Tenzo liked being on a team. He liked being part of something whole and larger than himself. Being surrounded by people who cared for you was the exact opposite of ROOT where everything was done in painful isolation and the death of another ROOT member could be assigned at any time, for any reason.

And as much as ANBU was a breath of fresh air from ROOT, Tenzo quickly learned it still wasn’t…good. Just less bad. And he wanted out. He wanted out even before Itachi…did what he did and Kakashi got honorably discharged.

Tenzo wanted to be a teacher. Once he gained enough of his emotions back and could actually answer questions about what he liked and disliked, he knew he wanted to be a teacher.

But Tenzo had no living family and was the only successful mokuton experiment. Despite slowly being able to process emotions and think of himself as a person again, he was still trained and conditioned with ROOT’s lethal efficiency.

He was perfect for ANBU.

They wouldn’t let him go without a reason.

Tenzo had no friends or family on the outside to petition the Sandaime to discharge him for his mental health like Kakashi did. Only the knowledge that ANBU was better than ROOT and if he made too much fuss he could always be sent back…

Every year he petitioned to be discharged and assigned as a jonin-sensei and every year he was denied. Instead, he was put on the fast track towards captain.

Every year his old teammates cycled out and new ones cycled in, faceless animal masks and codenames, without a sense of comradery.

Tenzo was tired.

But then one Senju Hashirama and one Uchiha Madara fell out of time. Two twelve-year-olds who had already stirred the village up and needed a quick and immediate cover story. Tenzo had no living family and was the only successful mokuton experiment. Despite slowly being able to process emotions and think of himself as a person again, he was still trained and conditioned with ROOT’s lethal efficiency.

He was perfect for keeping Madara in line.

Sarutobi told him to expect a ROOT agent to show up after he met the other two to finish out his four-man team.

Tenzo is a jonin-sensei.

Sort of.

He decides it’d be better to meet Hashirama first, both boys had been informed of Sarutobi’s plan, but Tenzo still thinks he should try and start with a good impression. The Shodai was famed for his easy-going personality and charisma, Tenzo should be alright with the child-version of that. Right?

He shushins on top of the roof and meets Kakashi’s bleary, red-eyed gaze.

“Ma, ma Tenzo, about time you showed up.” He pushes himself to his feet from where he was leaning against the roof’s door.

“Kakashi-senpai, are you injured?” Tenzo asks as they walk into the building and head down towards Hashirama’s apartment. “And weren’t you assigned to guard Madara’s apartment? Why are you here?”

Kakashi doesn’t answer, instead comes to a stop several feet away from the door marked with a ‘613’.

“Listen, Tenzo. Those brats are _terrors_ , yes Hashirama too. No _especially_ Hashirama. You need to drop whatever preconceived notions you have right now before you get stabbed,” he rubs his right shoulder gingerly.

“Kakashi-senpai…are you saying Senju Hashirama stabbed you?” A Konoha nin? Was there some sort of mix-up? Genjutsu?

“No, Madara did. Hashirama broke my ribs. Anyway, they’re your terrors now. Have fun!” Kakashi pats him on the shoulder, smiling under his mask before he shushins away. 

_He really needs to get some sleep._ Tenzo thinks as he walks up to the door.

He knocks twice but before he can call out, a kunai slams into the door, the tip peeking through the wood.

_What in the—_

“Uh, sorry about that!” A muffled voice calls. Footsteps thud from inside and the door is flung open to reveal a brown-skinned boy with only a towel around his waist. Tenzo’s eyes go to the bowl cut and stay on it for an uncomfortably long time. “Madara is still half-asleep, he didn’t get you, did he?” Hashirama asks as he pries the kunai out of the door.

“No I’m fine…” Tenzo trails off as he looks into the apartment. The bed is barely visible from the door, but Uchiha Madara is quite easy to see. His head is a dark spot against the white sheets and one bare arm hangs off the side.

“Madara!” Hashirama yells and Tenzo flinches at the volume. “Get up, our jonin-sensei is here!” The boy on the bed grumbles and turns over. Hashirama isn’t deterred, he runs back towards the bed and jumps on it, jostling Madara and almost sending him flying.

Tenzo walks in and closes the door softly behind him, letting it support his entire weight as he slumps back against it.

He didn’t know what to expect from Hashirama and Madara, really. There were no records of when they first met. They could have been total strangers at twelve or already enemies from a centuries-long blood feud. Tenzo hoped for more indifference and civility, at best. At worst, he expected to deal with two heirs of enemy clans, constantly fighting who would have to be carefully monitored and restrained, lest they kill one another.

He did not anticipate _this._

_This_ being Hashirama wrapping his arms around Madara’s torso to drag him into a sitting position and the other allowing it, even letting his head fall back on Hashirama’s chest.

“Come on, get up!”

“No.”

“Madara!”

“No.”

“I’ll drop you off the side of the bed.”

“No, you won’t.”

“I bet sensei will take us to get food—” Hashirama barely finishes the word before Madara’s eyes snap open and he bolts upright. He turns to face Tenzo and, oddly enough, there’s something akin to _mortification_ in his eyes as he jumps up and ties a second discarded towel around his waist. He rushes to stand in front of Tenzo, back ramrod straight. Hashirama follows at a slower pace, scratching his belly.

“You’re the jonin sensei?” Madara asks.

Tenzo feels like he’s the one who ended up in a different time. He manages to nod.

And then Uchiha Madara bows to him. Bows deeply and respectfully until his body is at a perfect ninety-degree angle.

“I am honored to serve under a master such as yourself, I will not bring shame or dishonor to your name.” He keeps the pose and after a long fifteen seconds, pointedly clears his throat and glares at Hashirama, who’s standing idly by. “Hashirama.”

“Huh?”

Hashirama snaps to attention, looking between Tenzo, who’s still shell-shocked, and Madara, who’s still bowing.

“Show some _respect_ ,” Madara hisses, raising his head just enough to jerk it towards Tenzo.

“Oh… _oh_!” Hashirama turns to him with a bright grin. “Nice to meet you, sensei who’s name I don’t know!” He bows but it looks more like a chicken bobbing its head than a formal greeting. “Why’d they pick you to watch over us, anyway?”

Madara’s bow deepens even further. A few more inches and his nose will touch his kneecaps.

“I apologize for his insolence, sensei.”

_You need to drop whatever preconceived notions you have right now before you get stabbed._ Kakashi had said. Tenzo…Tenzo thinks he understands now.

After gathering his wits, introducing himself as “Yamato,” and giving them their headbands, Tenzo finds himself walking down the market streets with two squabbling boys in front of him. Both are dressed, he’s still a bit confused and concerned about that, but he’s treating this entire first meeting like a fight. You don’t have time to stop and ask every question, you have to roll with the punches.

And since he doesn’t have to go get Madara, he’d asked if Madara was visiting and was met by a frankly _unnerving_ smile from Hashirama, it was off to the markets for supplies and breakfast before the start of their first mission.

Tenzo was given a stipend from the Sandaime to outfit Madara and Hashirama for combat missions and buy groceries. Until the problem with the time travel jutsu was figured out, Tenzo was commanded to treat them as an actual genin team, full of training and missions. And for that, they needed more than one kunai between them.

Both Hashirama and Madara were legendary figures, the epitome of powerful ninja. Tenzo didn’t delude himself into thinking theirs would be a normal genin team by any means but…shouldn’t two of the most powerful shinobi throughout time…know how to lower their voices?

“I know you came up with ‘hokage’ Hashirama, only you could think of something that stupid!”

“It’s a cool name, Madara!”

“It’s _fire_! Fire does not have a shadow! It’s a source of light!”

“Oh yeah? Well _you_ probably came up with ‘Konohagakure’ because that’s so literal and boring!”

They’re walking side by side and yelling at each other like they were across the village.

At least they are until crowds appear on the streets. It’s only then that the yelling and bickering over absolutely _nothing_ drops off and the two, Madara especially, become nearly mute. He presses up against Hashirama’s shoulder, his hand closing around the other boy’s. 

The ninja weapon and supply store is their first stop.

Inside, it’s the kind of chaos Tenzo thinks civilian children would make inside a candy store. Hashirama beelines for the clothes section and Madara towards the weapons. Clothes fly off their racks, weapons are picked through with delight. Tenzo follows Madara, concerned when he sees the boy stop, already with handfuls of kunai and shuriken, to grin up at the largest scythe on the wall.

“Ah, Madara make sure you choose something suited to your…size.”

The scythe is twice as tall as he is.

Madara doesn’t pout, but only barely.

“I could use it, I know how…but I guess I wouldn’t be able to use it paired with a gunbai.” There isn’t a warfan on the walls. Fans, uncommon in Konoha to begin with, all but disappeared under the Nidaime’s reign when they became symbolic of Madara himself. Tenzo forces down his shudder and turns to look at the wall of katanas and smaller tantos set next to them.

“Yamato-sensei,” Madara says before Tenzo could suggest he look at something else, “do you know if the other Uchiha artifacts were persevered after the…after the…”

_He knows about the Massacre._

Madara’s throat works but he looks closer to tears rather than unbridled rage or bloodlust. 

“I think most are still in the shrines,” Tenzo says carefully.

Even before the massacre, the Uchiha compound was sealed to prevent any unwanted visitors, any non-Uchiha. Compromises had to be made for certain village enemies, but they were fiercely protective of their secrets. It’s why Itachi had to be the one to kill them…who else could have entered the compound? Even now, the seals remain. Untended and weak, but no one visits the compound except Sasuke who lives there. It’s abandoned land, rotting and dead. More suited for ghosts than the living. There’s been no plundering, as far as Tenzo knows, but unless things were sealed or protected inside the compound…

“I didn’t know Sarutobi told you about the…”

“He didn’t. Naruto did, by accident.” _The jinchuriki? How has he already met the jinchuriki?_ Tenzo feels a headache building between his eyes. “It doesn’t matter, obviously the gunbai was destroyed and I hadn't fully mastered all the techniques yet anyway. I just…I don’t like that everything was taken from my family in one fell swoop. Their lives, their artifacts, their legacies…” Madara shuffles his weapons to rub at his eyes.

Before Tenzo can say anything, before he can try and comfort _Uchiha Madara_ , Hashirama rushes up, a bundle of brightly colored clothes in his arms.

“Hey, Madara! Look at this—what’s wrong?” He moves closer, worry and concern written on his face. But then Hashirama looks up, looks up at Tenzo and the burning, furious rage he half expected to see on Madara’s face is instead on Hashirama’s.

_What did you do to him?_ Goes unspoken.

“Nothing, I just got a bit emotional,” Madara mumbles, cheeks flushing bright red. He nods at the scythe and Hashirama looks at it, then back at Madara. The rage is gone.

“Ohhh, ok. Come here and look at all this cool stuff I found! There are so many bright colors in the future!” Hashirama tugs Madara away, successfully distracting him.

“Great, your fashion sense is going to get even worse, isn’t it? I thought you already reached rock bottom but here you are,” Madara taunts half-heartedly and Hashirama whines, draping himself against the other.

_You need to drop whatever preconceived notions you have right now before you get stabbed._ Kakashi had said. Tenzo is struck with the sudden realization that, if one of his new students is going to stab him, it won’t be Madara. 

He follows the two of them around the store in a daze.

“Why don’t they have the full mantles?” Madara asks as he holds up a high-collared short-sleeve shirt.

“’Cause they’re bor—”

Madara throws the shirt at Hashirama and picks out several more identical ones, only varying by shades of purple.

Hashirama, through much nagging from Madara and a few comments from Tenzo himself, eventually settles on the third or fourth most outrageous thing he found on. Tenzo isn’t sure what it is, except it has a plunging neckline and lots of green and red.

“I don’t know what was wrong with my first choice,” Hashirama pouts as Tenzo pays at the front. Thankfully the weapons portion went smoother. Hashirama had a small battlescroll with basic weapons, a medic kit strapped to one side, and a katana on the other.

“It was a _scrap_ of a shirt! It wouldn’t have even covered your ribs!” Madara says as he takes his clothes and weapons from the counter. He has a katana like Hashirama, with an additional tanto to strap on the small of his back and several packs of kunai, shuriken, and spools of ninja wire.

“That Uzumaki kid was wearing _orange_ , I don’t see why I couldn’t wear…Madara?”

“Izuna?” Madara’s not looking at them, his eyes are locked on someone outside the shop. He races past Hashirama, out onto the street. Tenzo hurries to take his change from the cashier and rushes after Hashirama, who’s already running after Madara.

Tenzo is numb at this point, so seeing Madara smother a pale ROOT agent in a hug doesn’t even make him flinch.

“For the third time, I am _not_ Izuna. Unhand me, _now_. This is not professional or appropriate behavior for teammates.”

Tenzo knew, logically when Hiruzen said a ROOT agent would be assigned to complete their four-man team, the agent would be young. Young enough to pass for a genin. Or, Tenzo thinks, stomach turning, no older than the other genin.

Madara doesn’t let the boy go so he reaches for the tanto on his back. Tenzo steps to intervene, a fight is the last thing they need, but Hashirama beats him to it. He crashes into the two of them, a large smile plastered across his face but when Madara and the agent stand with identical grumbles, he purposefully puts himself between them.

“You’re an Uchiha, right? You gotta be with the, uh, face,” Hashirama waves his hand at the agent.

“I am not.”

“Really? You sure?”

“ _Yes._ ” He’s only twelve but Tenzo knows how early their conditioning starts and the emotional repression sets in. It’s amazing that with only one conversation Hashirama has broken through enough barriers to get the agent to express irritation.

“So what is your name?” Hashirama leans forward, squinting at the smaller boy. “Why can he wear one of the short shirts, if I can’t?” This is directed back at Madara, who swats Hashirama’s shoulder.

Tenzo panics, in the confusion and rush they may not have given him a codename for the mission—

“My name is Sai,” he huffs, raising his chin and looking Hashirama up and down, “you must Senju Hashirama…I expected more from such a legendary historical figure.” Hashirama freezes, slumping over against Madara, a dark cloud over his head.

“Stop acting so depressed,” Madara complains but doesn’t shove him off.

“Definitely an Uchiha. He’s so mean—” Now Madara shoves Hashirama away and the ROOT agent, Sai, _laughs_ when he falls to the ground. 

_You need to drop whatever preconceived notions you have right now before you get stabbed._

Tenzo…will never get used to this situation. And accepting that, he paradoxically feels better about it.

**Sai**

Sai is… _technically_ not a ROOT agent.

He’s one of the best in the agency but he’s still _technically_ a junior agent. He hasn’t graduated to full agent status, but neither has Shin. They were supposed to go with Danzou next week to complete the mysterious assignment required for full graduation but with the sudden _incident_ that scrambled all of ROOT…well.

Sai is _technically_ not a ROOT agent, but he is the best of his age-group and Danzou assigned him to be the fourth man in the newly created Team 13. If it came down to it, he and the ex-ROOT leader, _does he still have a curse seal? no one just_ leaves _ROOT, not alive,_ should be able to easily overpower Uchiha Madara.

But, after his first interaction with the two time-travelers, Sai thinks Danzou is short-sighted not to realize the actual danger: Senju Hashirama is the most _annoying_ person Sai has ever met.

He doesn’t know why but the other rubs him the wrong way.

_He has a stupid face._ Sai thinks as Yamato drags them to an old-fashioned restaurant.

There’s also the fact that Senju Hashirama would kill anyone that threatened Uchiha Madara.

Said isn’t an idiot. He recognized the look in Hashirama’s eyes, so quick it was gone in a flash, when he tried to pull his tanto on Madara after he insisted on hugging him.

ROOT isn’t interested in teaching its agents anything that doesn’t help them complete missions. History _definitely_ falls under that category but Shin likes to read smuggled books. And whenever he’s bedridden due to his illness, he likes to quietly recite the passages to Sai to help him memorize them.

Senju Hashirama killed Uchiha Madara.

Sai knows not to trust anything written in books that you haven’t written or drawn yourself. The proof is right in front of him. Right in front of him and trying to crawl into Madara’s lap as they wait for their breakfast to be brought out.

“Boys,” Yamato scolds as Hashirama’s knee smacks into the table and rattles it.

Interestingly it’s Madara who straightens and nearly smacks his head against Hashirama’s in an effort to bow to Yamato.

“I’m sorry sen—”

“You’re fine Madara,” Yamato’s face spasms a bit at that, “but Hashirama, please sit in your own seat.” Hashirama pouts and it isn’t until Madara jabs him with his elbow that he whines and slips back into his own chair. He hunches forward, chin on his palm, tapping one chopstick mindlessly against the table.

_Tap. Tap, tap. Tap. Tap, tap, tap._

Sai’s eye starts to twitch.

Yamato clears his throat and the chopstick stops. “I was planning to tell you all after breakfast, but I suppose now will do. We have our first mission tonight.”

“Already? Who are we assassinating?” Madara asks as their server sets the first dishes in front of them. She shoots him a concerned look.

“No one,” Yamato sighs, “and please don’t ask that in a public restaurant. It’s impolite.” 

“Really? So we’re sabotaging something, or someone,” Hashirama guesses as more plates are put in front of them.

“No. You’re genin, technically. We’re escorting a caravan to a border town between Fire Country and the Land of Hot Water.” Madara and Hashirama look at each other.

“Are we…at war with the Land of Hot Water?” Madara asks.

“Is it a super important caravan? Weapons? Seals? Prisoners?” Hashirama asks.

“No, just civilians passing through Konoha from the Land of Tea. They’re bringing a tea shipment to serve at the local onsen,” Yamato says as the final dish is set down. 

“And you can just, uh, hire ninjas to guard…tea? Normal tea?" Hashirama asks, but Sai’s not paying attention to him any more. He’s watching Madara practically _inhale_ his food. As soon as the server walked away, he picked up his chopsticks and dragged every bowl closer to him.

“Yes, technically we should start out with D-level missions in the village, not a C-level but…” Yamato trails off, eyes on Madara, “Madara slow down. You’re going to make yourself sick.” He does slow down, but only a bit.

Sai picks at his own breakfast at a moderate, _normal_ pace.

Madara finishes what’s in front of him in record time and then turns towards Hashirama, who’s been eating the slowest out of all of them. He stares at Hashirama. _Begging,_ Sai realizes with a thrill, the great _Uchiha Madara_ begging for food. Shin would never believe him.

Hashirama slides his dishes over.

“Boys,” Yamato scolds but it doesn’t stop Madara from picking up where he left off and scarfing down the food. “Madara, Hashirama needs to eat his own food. He needs it—”

“No, I don’t,” Hashirama interrupts.

“You’re twelve, you’re growing, you’re an active ninja, yes you do. You need to keep up your energy,” Yamato pushes back.

“Yeah, energy, but I don’t need to eat that much. I’ve got water,” Sai did notice he’d been drinking an awful lot, from his cup and Madara’s, “and plenty of sun.”

“You’re not a plant, Hashirama,” Yamato says, but it comes out more like a question.

“Actually Tobirama thinks I’m one-eighth of a plant. Or more like there’s something weird about my body,” Yamato flinches ever so slightly at that, “and it does this weird photosynthesis thing like plants and makes energy from sunlight. So I don’t need to eat as much and Madara should eat what I’m not going to. Otherwise it’d be wasteful,” Hashirama smiles and Yamato’s shoulders slump.

“You still need to eat actual food.”

“Of course,” Hashirama agrees and slides Madara another bowl.

After breakfast, they finish going over the details of the mission. It’s less of an actual _mission_ and more like a vacation. They’ll accompany the caravan on the four day’s journey to the border town, stay there for a night at an inn, and then do some training while heading back to the village.

“Are we going to be training on our way there too?” Sai asks as Yamato pays for breakfast.

“Not much since we’ll be working.”

_It’s hardly work._ It’s guarding a tea caravan. Sai and Shin did more on their very first day of ROOT training. If he had to guess, this part of the mission is more about getting a feel for Madara and Hashirama. Learning their behaviors and, just in case Madara goes crazy all of a sudden, having it done _away_ from the village.

Sai knew when Danzou assigned him the mission that he’d have to be on a genin team, be around _other people_ but Sai didn’t realize what that really meant until he was forced to be in close quarters with his ‘team.’

It was terrible.

That evening they set out alongside the caravan. It was an entire family of merchants traveling together. They had six covered carts pulled by horses, full of aromatic tea. Yamato sat or walked alongside the first cart and Sai sat watch in the back cart. Hashirama and Madara were _supposed_ to be walking alongside them or in the third cart but here they were in the back cart, pestering him.

Which they had been doing for _hours._

“You draw? What are you drawing? Can I see?” Hashirama bumps into Sai, trying to peek over his shoulder to see.

“Izuna likes to paint. Do you know how to do that?” Madara asks looking over his other shoulder.

“Hey, hey Madara. What are the chances that we’d get paired with an Uchiha that looks like your brother and has his hobbies? What if Sai was Izuna reincarnated? Wouldn’t that be crazy?”

“I am not an Uchiha and I am not your brother!” Sai shouts, throwing up his hands. His sketchbook remains open on his lap, abstract forgotten.

“I never said you were, that was Hashirama,” Madara huffs and crosses his arm.

“I have my own brother! I don’t want to be yours!” Sai yells and considers pulling out his scrolls to summon something just to chase them out.

“You can have multiple brothers,” Hashirama adds and Sai screams, tearing at his hair.

“The Uchiha are a proud and noble clan, the chosen of the Sun. It’d be the highest honor to have our name,” Madara smirks, raising his chin.

“Yeah and they’re all dead,” Sai mutters and Hashirama sucks in a sharp breath, that dangerous look flashing in his eyes again.

“That’s why you get adopted in, to rebuild the clan dumbass,” Madara kicks Sai’s leg. “And I could technically do it,” he looks thoughtful now, rubbing his chin and Sai feels his stomach drop, _he’s serious_ , “since I’m technically the clan head now.”

“Your cover story is you’re a bastard,” Sai reminds him, hoping that derails this entire conversation. Madara scowls, obviously displeased, but it doesn't stop him.

“I have a sharingan. Does Sasuke?” Madara asks and both he and Hashirama kick at Sai’s legs until he spits out a ‘no.’ “See? The only person who could even challenge me would be the Hatake, but the thief’s scar disqualifies him, even if he did get it in an accident. And since you have no clan to contest the claim, it’s as good as done. Congratulations _little brother_ ,” and before Sai could protest Madara pulls him into a headlock and ruffles his hair.

_This is really happening._

Sai has been trained to recognize a no-win situation. This, _somehow_ , counts.

“Fine. On one condition,” Sai mutters, his face pressed uncomfortably against Madara’s armpit, “my _actual_ brother also gets honorary adopted or whatever. I’m not putting up with this alone.”

“Deal. See that Hashirama? I just doubled the amount of Uchiha in the village.”

It wouldn’t matter. As soon as the Sandaime figured out the jutsu or Sai got the kill command for Madara, Danzou would just change it back. Another name dropped, like every one before.

But still…

It almost sounds…nice to be part of a clan.

Pity it had to be Madara’s.

**Madara**

“You did _what_?” Yamato-sensei asks when they stop for the night and Madara announces he’s named Sai an Uchiha. Madara thinks it’s something he should tell his sensei. He’s not sure how Konoha’s teaching system works, but he wants to be a good student.

“I said, Sai’s an Uchiha now. He’s my little brother,” Madara remembers the other brother, “and his older brother Shin too. They’re both my little brothers.”

Yamato-sensei blinks.

Opens his mouth.

Blinks.

Closes his mouth.

Blinks.

Opens his mouth again.

“And you agreed to this?” He asks Sai as the merchants unload their camping supplies and unhook the horses from the carts.

“I wasn’t given much of a choice,” Sai huffs and crosses his arms. “Besides, Shin is older than us both so _he’s_ now the eldest—”

“No, I am. I was born first, that makes me the eldest.” Madara is _not_ going to be a younger brother. He’s the eldest.

“You’re _twelve_ —”

“Technically we’re like a hundred and twelve,” Hashirama adds with a grin.

“And you…want Sai to be an Uchiha?” Yamato-sensei interrupts before they can start squabbling.

“Yes.” Madara still doesn’t understand the time travel issue, and he supposes ultimately it doesn’t matter if he and Hashirama just go back to the past and make better decisions. They’ll still be dead by this present time, so he won’t get to see if Sai was an actual born Uchiha that got mixed up but…but that’s at least a few months away.

Madara is one of two Uchiha in the village and he doesn’t know Sasuke. He has Hashirama and that’s grounding him but…there needs to be a clan. _Madara_ needs a clan. Uchiha don’t do well alone. And maybe it’s different now but not having a clan name was a death sentence for him and Hashirama. You had no support, no family. A lone shinobi probably wouldn’t survive against the hostile warbands. A lone shinobi _definitely_ wouldn’t survive the bad winters with famine and sickness.

“…alright. But please don’t adopt anyone else before telling me first,” Yamato-sensei says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yes, sensei!” Madara bows.

The next two days pass without any fanfare. Their mission is easy. At least in this way his and Hashirama’s dream has been successful. If this is the kind of missions kids are sent on…there’s no battlefield, no fighting.

It’s kind of boring.

But Madara is happy for the break. Before he and Hashirama fell through the tear, the Uchiha had fought the Nara and those were always long, exhausting fights full of fire to disrupt their shadow techniques. Now all he has to do is occasionally sweep the area for chakra signatures, while Sai monitors the sky and Hashirama the ground. 

In the back of the last cart, he leans on Hashirama’s shoulder, watching as he carves a piece of wood. Sai, sitting across from them, coughs and mutters something that sounds like ‘gay’ under his breath as he draws. He’s been doing it since the first night when they settled down in the merchants’ camp. Yamato-sensei had first watch so Madara pushed Hashirama aside so he could wriggle into their sleeping bag and curl up behind him. Madara’s not sure what about this seemed excessively _happy_ to Sai, or why Yamato-sensei had a tired look on his face when he said it.

The future is strange.

Hashirama carves his little wooden statue. Madara’s not sure what it’s supposed to be. A frog? A fox? The cart jostles and the blade sinks into Hashirama’s thumb. He heals himself with a huff and positions the knife again. And promptly slices it back into the same thumb.

Hashirama slumps against him, depressive mood setting in.

Madara takes the wooden statue and knife. Hashirama whines, high-pitched and loud about how unfair the jostling cart is and how he’s never going to be able to do small or detailed things with the mokuton if he can’t even get one tiny statuette right by hand. Madara hums under his breath and starts to carve the weird frog-fox.

Hashirama’s not _bad_ at carving when he’s not being jostled and Madara has watched him do it before, once with the sharingan active. He’s watched Hashirama a lot with his sharingan active, after its initial awakening. That was his fault too.

He’d gotten distracted and almost tumbled off another cliff _._ But unlike the most recent cliff-incident, the only thing below _that_ particular cliff was a deep rocky ravine. If Hashirama fell there wouldn’t be anything Madara could do. He would have died.

But he didn’t fall. Madara caught him, pulled him back in the nick of time. He never forgot that moment, Hashirama wide-eyed with terror as his arms flailed but he kept tilting back. He could never forget it, that was the moment his sharingan awakened.

The very _thought_ of losing Hashirama…

It was definitely awkward after he grabbed him. Madara flat on his back, gripping Hashirama’s haori. Hashirama above him, still pale and staring down at red, spinning eyes. It should have ended their meetings, the carefully hidden truth revealed, but it didn’t. Hashirama whispered he had suspected all along, what with his distinctive look. Madara was…less pleased when Hashirama drew the Senju symbol in the dirt and gestured exaggeratedly at himself. Technically they never said their surnames, but it was the flimsiest of excuses. But Madara didn’t want to lose his best friend…even if he was a Senju _._

One good thing about the revelation at least was the sharingan. Hashirama was more curious than afraid and Madara soon had his collection of perfectly captured memories.

Most of them were of Hashirama smiling…

Almost all of them were of Hashirama smiling…

But he had one sequence of carving, so he could carve the frog-fox! He promptly ignores the voice in his head that sounds like Izuna, mocking any artistic attempt Madara has tried in the past.

When Yamato-sensei comes to check on them sometime later, Hashirama’s still pouting with his head in Madara’s lap. Madara himself is ready to _burn_ the insufferable carving and its weird malformed web-paws, beady off-center eyes, and large mocking grin. Across from them Sai is smiling widely complimenting the _unique proportions_ and _daring confidence_ that resulted in the frog-fox.

“Boys,” he sighs, pulling himself into the cart next to Sai. “I know it’s not a difficult mission but you still need to be on alert.”

Madara straightens, jostling Hashirama. “We have been, Yamato-sensei. Sai has ink birds circling above, I’ve been reaching out to search for nearby chakra signatures on random intervals, and Hashirama is using the roots’ network system to look for traps underneath the caravan.”

Yamato-sensei blinks.

“Ah, well then…good job.” Madara relaxes at the praise. Yamato-sensei clears his throat and his eyes dart around until they land on the frog-fox in Madara’s hand. “What do you have there?”

“Nothing.”

“My greatest failure!”

Madara and Hashirama say at the same time.

“Stop being so dramatic,” Madara scolds, “I fixed it.”

“ _Fixed_ is extremely generous,” Sai mutters, glancing up from his sketchpad. Yamato-sensei still looks confused so after a moment’s hesitation Madara hesitantly hands the frog-fox over.

“Hashi does wood carvings. They’re supposed to help him visualize how to shape wood and keep its structure intact so he can control the mokuton better. The cart’s jostling made it difficult, so I _fixed_ it,” Madara says, glaring at Sai who sticks his tongue out.

“The mokuton is just too hard and I have to figure out everything on my own,” Hashirama pouts, staring up at the canvas cart top. He’s frustrated, but not close to real tears yet. Madara runs his hand through Hashirama’s hair, slipping the headband off so he can brush his bangs back from his forehead. The bowl-cut might look terrible, but Hashirama’s hair is fine and soft. It slips through Madara’s fingers like water, not hair.

“It’s okay. You can do it, you’ll figure it out,” he whispers, trying to gentle his voice, and Hashirama slowly relaxes.

Across from them, Yamato-sensei looks down at the little frog-fox.

“I understand your frustration, Hashirama,” Yamato-sensei says softly. Hashirama rolls on his side to squint at their teacher. Madara starts to pull his hand away but keeps in place after Hashirama makes a low noise of complaint.

“You do?”

Yamato-sensei smiles and clasps his hands together. The hand signs are different, but there’s too few of them to being anything other than—

“Mokuton,” Hashirama bolts upright, bracing his hand on Madara’s thigh. A piece of the wooden cart has broken off and formed an exact replica of the frog-fox. “You…you have the mokuton. _How_ do you have the mokuton? I’m the only one…you’re a Senju!” Hashirama points at Yamato-sensei who chuckles and scratches his head.

“Well technically—”

“The mokuton is actually a kekkei genkai? And not unique to Hashirama?” Madara interrupts. Immediately he feels bad about cutting off their sensei, but he’d always thought…even the Uzumakis’ _rare_ kekkei genkai had to be passed down, it showed up at least once in _every_ generation. Hashirama _claimed_ there was mention about the Senju’s forefather possessing a ‘great power, one of the earth’ but that always sounded flimsy to Madara. 

“Well technically—”

“That’s why you were assigned to be our jonin-sensei! So you could teach me! Are we related? Are you my cousin or something? Did I have kids? Did _Tobirama_ have kids?! Are you my great-great something grand-nephew?” Hashirama asks, creeping closer and closer to Yamato-sensei until he shoves himself into the man’s personal space.

“Calm down, there’s no need to get worked up,” Yamato-sensei gently pushes Hashirama back and out of his face. “I suppose I can teach you a few things, but considering _you’re_ the one who taught me, it’ll just be—”

“I taught you? You must be really old Yamato-sensei!” Hashirama interrupts. Yamato-sensei’s eye twitches and Madara mutters a low, _“Hashirama”_ under his breath. “Or did I just live a super long time? Wait…old me isn’t still alive right? Because that’d be super weird—”

“Hashirama,” Yamato-sensei says, covering Hashirama’s mouth with his hand, “no ‘old you’ is not alive. You kept a record on mokuton techniques, I learned from that. As far as I know, we’re not related. I don’t have a clan. I’m going to remove my hand now, take a deep breath and calm down. Okay?”

Hashirama nods and Yamato-sensei lets him go. He leans back, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

“You know, I could just do what Madara did and make you an honorary Senju! It’d make perfect sense too, since you have the kekkei genkai. That Uzumaki kid said there’s no other Senju,” Hashirama’s voice warbles a bit, “so no one can tell me I can’t. I’m clan head.”

“You are, technically, the eldest but you’d have to fight your granddaughter for the title. And she’s pretty terrifying,” Yamato-sensei laughs.

“…I have a granddaughter?” Hashirama glances back at Madara. Madara's not...surprised, per say. Having heirs was important and expected, especially if the Senju wanted the mokuton to be passed down. He draws his knees up to his chest, frowning.

“Gay,” Sai coughs and Yamato-sensei slaps a hand to his forehead.

The last day of their trip was equally as uneventful as the first few. Yamato-sensei does pull Hashirama aside for a bit to give him a few tips on the mokuton from his…future self? Past future self? Madara sits in the back cart with Sai again, watching him draw. He rests most of the final day, aware of the chakra signatures around them but lulled by smell of sharp tea leaves and steady motion of the cart on the road.

When they make it to the border town the merchant thanks Yamato-sensei with a little bag of tea leaves and then they’re off.

“Are you boys ready for the inn?” Yamato-sensei asks as they make their way through the town. It’s a small civilian settlement. Madara hasn’t heard about any war in this age or seen any signs, yet it’s still surprising to walk through the streets and see the casual way the civilians interact with one another. There is no side-eying, staring at the clan symbol on his back, or pointed remarks about potential allies or enemies. The fact that they’ll let shinobi from Konoha freely stay at their inn, like they were just normal paying customers…

“Yeah, yeah! I can’t wait for the bath!” Hashirama says, spinning around in circles as they walk.

“Madara?” Yamato-sensei looks at him.

“I’ve heard inns are supposed to have good food,” he’s heard mostly from Hashirama, but still. The Uchiha aren’t known for their extensive civilian network and it was usually too dangerous to stay in inns on missions.

“You’ve never been?” Yamato-sensei asks as they turn down a street. Madara shakes his head, kicking at a stone in the road.

“What about you Sai? What are you looking forward to?”

“Having a pillow so I can smother Hashirama when he starts to snore,” Sai smiles.

“Madara! He’s being mean to me,” Hashirama pouts. He’s still spinning so he looks even more ridiculous than usual.

“Sai, don’t be mean to Hashirama,” Madara says half-heartedly, “but you really shouldn’t snore, Hashi. What kind of a ninja snores?”

“I can’t help it! It’s not like I _choose_ to! Plus _you_ drool in your sleep! What's up with that, huh?!”

They squabble a bit more and Hashirama trips over his own feet and bumps into Madara, leading to a short scuffle in the middle of the road before Yamato-sensei picks both of them up and sets them apart.

Madara can see the inn in the distance, streamers flying in the wind. They’re almost at the door when Sai, staring at the ground, asks: “What are you looking forward to at the inn, Yamato-sensei?”

“Ah you know what my favorite parts about inns are?” All three of them turn to look at him. “The slippers.”

“But you can wear slippers anytime, Yamato-sensei,” Hashirama says as they reach the door.

“Hmm true, but there’s just something special about inn slippers.”

After they check in and find their room, they head to the baths. Madara is surprised by the rush of relief he feels surrounded by tatami floors and shoji walls again. He strips out of his dirty clothes and follows Yamato-sensei into the washing area. It’s full of showers like the one at his and Hashirama’s tiny house, with only a few familiar buckets. Still, Madara grabs the soap and scrubs himself down under the water, cleaning off all of the traveling grime and sweat. He’s rinsing his hair when Hashirama drags a stool and bucket over.

“Do my back?”

Madara sits down and dunks the cloth in the soapy water. He drags it over Hashirama’s brown skin.

“This is so nice,” Hashirama says, twisting his neck to grin back at Madara, “we’re at an onsen together. Last week we were at war and now we’re at an onsen…” Hashirama’s brown eyes are shiny despite his smile. “I wish our brothers were here then…then I might not want to go back, you know?”

“Our clans…” Madara starts because he can’t help it. The Uchiha are dead, he couldn’t let that happen, he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t stop it. He drags the cloth down Hashirama’s back and dunks it back in the warm water.

“I know, I know,” Hashirama hurries to say, facing forward again. “We have to go back, otherwise this won’t exist at all. It’s just nice that we don’t have to fight right now, that we get to spend all day together instead of an hour or two. You’re there when I go to sleep and you’re there when I wake up. I like it. I like being with you, Madara. I always want to be with you.” Madara’s cheeks burn, hot and red and they’re not even in the bath yet.

_Stupid Hashirama. Stupid Hashirama and his stupid, mushy words._

“Do my back now,” Madara rushes to switch but by the time Hashirama takes his place on the stool, it’s clear that he’s seen Madara’s blush. Yamato-sensei and Sai are still a bit away in their own showers. They’re no help when Hashirama leans forward and wraps his arms around Madara’s chest. “This isn’t washing my back,” he mutters but doesn’t throw Hashirama off, even as his skin prickles uncomfortably from someone being behind him.

“Yeah, but you haven’t told me to stop. You didn’t disagree with me either.” 

Because he doesn’t. Hashirama is his best friend, everything is better with him, he always wants to be with him. Madara has lain awake for countless nights in the Uchiha compound, Izuna in the threadbare futon next to him, wishing desperately that things could change and Hashirama would suddenly be there next to him.

Madara just can’t put it into words without getting embarrassed or sounding stupid.

“You’re not wrong,” he finally bites out between clenched teeth. Madara drags his foot over the cold wet tile in an effort to ground himself.

It’s enough for Hashirama.

He squeezes Madara’s chest and leans over him. And leans. And leans. And _leans._

Hashirama topples and they crash onto the tile floor, sending the bucket flying up and rolling off. Madara’s elbow cracks painfully against the floor while his other arm is pinned between his side and Hashirama’s chest. With his cheek pressed against the wet tile, the burn in his cheeks quickly turns from embarrassment to anger.

“ _Hashirama_ …”

And of course, the sound of their crash drew Yamato-sensei and Sai’s attention.

“Boys,” Yamato-sensei pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Gay,” Sai coughs.

“Madara…”

“No.”

“ _Madara_ …”

“No.”

“ _Madara!”_

“It’s an onsen! Your feet can touch the bottom, you’re not going to drown!” Madara throws his hands up, splashing Hashirama and Sai on either side of him. Sai smiles, small and fake, and splashes him back. Madara reels towards him, ready to escalate into a full fight, but Hashirama takes the opportunity to attach himself to Madara’s arm, clinging like a limpet.

Madara sighs in defeat and slumps back against the rough edge of the bath.

“Boys, we might be the only ones on this side, but it’s impolite to yell in the bath,” Yamato-sensei says from Sai’s other side. From the dividing wall, Madara can just barely hear a few women laughing.

“Sorry Yamato-sensei,” Madara mutters. He tries half-heartedly to tug his arm from Hashirama’s grip, but it only makes the other boy plaster himself to Madara’s side, grip tightening.

“Hashirama if you’re that worried about the water you can sit with me or we can go back to the room—”

“No, I’m fine here now,” Hashirama interrupts, hooking his ankle around Madara’s.

“You two are being indecent in public,” Sai says, sinking down into the water. Madara splashes him. He doesn’t understand half the things Sai says, but he knows enough about little brothers to know that he deserved to be splashed. Sai scowls and swims away to the center of the bath.

“Hashirama maybe you should give Madara his own space,” Yamato-sensei suggests gently. Hashirama tenses and then slumps against Madara with a pout.

“Do you want me to get off?” He asks, barely loud enough for Madara to hear.

Madara’s cheeks burn again, especially when he accidentally meets Yamato-sensei’s eyes. He looks away and huffs, prying off one of Hashirama’s now loose hands. But he tangles their fingers together underwater before he could move away.

“It’s fine,” Madara stares at the steam rising up from the bathwater and very purposefully doesn’t look anywhere else. Hashirama laughs, snuggling closer. Yamato-sensei sighs and leans back against the bath edge. 

After another half hour or so he gets out of the water and wraps a towel around his waist.

“I’m heading in now. I don’t think I need to tell you this, but stay out of the women’s side,” Yamato-sensei says seriously, looking down at him and Hashirama.

“Why would we try to go to the women’s side? We’re not women and there’s no girl on our team,” Madara says slowly. Next to him, Hashirama tilts his head to the side in similar confusion.

“Keep that attitude,” Yamato-sensei mutters to himself and then turns to Sai who’s swimming around in the water. “That goes for you too, Sai.”

Sai surfaces and crosses his arms with a scoff. “Girls are gross.” His eyes flicker towards Madara and Hashirama. “And apparently so are boys.”

Yamato-sensei sighs deeply. Madara is struck with the sudden urge to get up and splash him again and hold him down in the water, but he doesn’t want to disturb Hashirama. Madara settles for narrowing his eyes and smacking the water threateningly with his one free hand. Sai sticks his tongue out.

Behind them, Yamato-sensei sighs again.

**Tenzo**

Even after only five days together as an official team Tenzo has come to a conclusion that he would have thought impossible a week ago: _they’re good kids._ All of his kids. And with only a few…quirks, all three of his kids _act_ like kids. Even Sai.

Privately Tenzo suspects Danzou scrambled and assigned a junior agent in place of a full agent, but he won’t bring up the topic just yet. Sai still displays emotion and he talks fondly of his brother. Not Madara, and Tenzo just knows Hiruzen and Danzou are going to love hearing that, but the other one. Tenzo knows ROOT and he has a feeling what Sai’s full graduation assignment would entail.

Maybe he could ask Kakashi for help. The Sandaime wouldn’t listen to him, but he’d listened to Kakashi before. It was a bit of a longshot but he doesn’t want Sai to go through what he did. He’s still young enough to fight the worst of the programming, it’d only get harder the longer he was with ROOT and unless something changed he would have to return.

Eventually, the Sandaime would fix the jutsu and Hashirama and Madara would be sent back to their own time. Tenzo pushes down the voice that asks, _what if he can’t?_ He knows nothing about time travel. But they had to go back, right? They had to be in the past for the present to exist or something.

He doesn’t want them to go back. Partly for selfish reasons, Tenzo can admit to himself as he enters their room and puts on his slippers, smiling down at the three smaller pairs next to his own. But also due to legitimate concern, mostly for Madara.

Because Madara is fundamentally kind. He’s a perfectionist, easily irritated, has the appetite of an Akimichi, and absolutely no volume control, but kind. To Hashirama, to Sai, to the tea merchants, to Tenzo himself. So to become the Uchiha Madara of legend, the one that betrayed the village, abandoned it, and then tried to destroy it…something terrible must have happened to twist a kind child into that.

Tenzo is lost in thought until the hosts start bringing in the extravagant dinner dishes. They’ve barely sat the last one down and left before the shoji slides back and the boys walk in. Tenzo isn’t surprised, Madara has a sixth sense for food. They sit down and like every time before, Madara eats like he’s starving.

After seeing him strip down and being able to count every one of his ribs, Tenzo thinks he might be. It makes him a little sick that he didn’t notice immediately. The Uchiha had been prone to a misleading daintiness and cursed to develop heavy circles under their eyes, but this was something more.

War.

They came from a constantly war-torn era. Tenzo remembers the last years of the Third Shinobi War. He remembers the areas hit hardest, where the supply chains didn’t reach, where the fighting had destroyed the crops, and the people had been left behind. Their emaciated bodies and gaunt, desperate eyes.

And those had been civilians. Not active shinobi.

Not genin-aged children who were already expected to be battle-hardened warriors.

Hashirama had fewer scars than Madara, but he’d probably been in just as many battles. Tenzo doesn’t know for sure. He had read all of the Shodai’s scrolls when he was learning the mokuton, but those scrolls were the only records that still existed. The Shodai hadn’t kept a diary or preserved any letters. And in the scrolls, there weren’t many notes unrelated to the kekkei genkai. The few tangents that did exist emphasized the same image Tenzo and the rest of Konoha had of the Shodai: a charismatic, eternally optimistic, easy-going leader. It may be a stretch but, watching the child in front of him sneak flower-shaped carrots onto Madara’s plate to watch him make a disgusted face but eat them anyway, Tenzo wonders how much of that was a façade.

Nowhere did the Shodai mention Madara. There were the statues at the Valley of the End, but other than that…nothing. Tenzo can’t believe the boy who couldn’t go five minutes without touching Madara could become a man that completely forgot him.

What happened to them?

After dinner, the dishes are cleared away and they set the futons out to sleep. And, like every night before, Madara completely ignores his own, instead choosing to nudge at Hashirama until he lifts the cover and lets Madara cuddle up next to him.

“Gay,” Sai coughs from his own futon and Tenzo takes a long, deep breath. They’re his kids, but god do they test him.

“Madara you have your own futon,” Tenzo reminds him as he finishes organizing their bags. He thought this insistence on sleeping with Hashirama was because they were out in forest. It was mid-March, and the nights could get chilly as the hard ground leeched heat from the skin. But here in their nice insulated room…

“We can share, I don’t mind!” Hashirama says, wrapping his arms around Madara. Tenzo isn’t sure whether or not he should be concerned with this behavior. Nothing in the teaching manuals he bought prepared him for this.

They were twelve. But, despite Madara being the one to crawl into Hashirama’s bed, Tenzo has a feeling it’d be Hashirama to be the one to push it past innocence. Madara will occasionally hold the other boy’s hand or lean against him. Hashirama drapes his entire body over Madara’s, constantly tries to touch his chest or face, and _stares_. God does he stare at Madara with a love-struck expression.

Hashirama has a crush on Madara.

Yet another thing the Tenzo of last week would never believe.

_The Senju were the clan of love._ It was one of Danzou’s favorite insults towards the Shodai. He probably didn’t mean this kind of love.

…was that their relationship before Madara left the village? When had the Shodai married Uzumaki Mito again?

Tenzo turns off the light and sits down on his own futon, next to Hashirama’s. Hashirama stares at him, one hand clutched in the back of Madara’s nemaki with his chin hooked on the boy’s shoulder. Tenzo reaches out and he tenses, eyes narrowing in suspicion. He clutches Madara tighter like he thinks Tenzo will try to pull him away. He doesn’t, instead he pats Hashirama’s head and smiles at the boy’s confused look.

_They’re good kids._

They were good kids, but on the way back to Konoha, Tenzo is reminded exactly _who_ his kids are.

On the way back, they stop for training. Honestly, he was surprised that Madara and Hashirama were able to do a calm four-day mission without complaining or growing restless. When he announced they’d be stopping to spar, he was met with an abundance of enthusiasm from them but indifference from Sai. 

They stopped in a tiny clearing in the forest, off from the main road. Madara and Hashirama scrambled to get in place. They were all smiles, a bit savage and wild, but happy. This was supposed to be a spar so Tenzo could evaluate their current skill level. He knew he wouldn’t be teaching them the basics, but he didn’t expect…

_This._

The forest clearing they stopped in has been reduced to _nothing_ in their first attacks. Ash chokes the air and floats down in a mockery of snow as Madara’s katon consumes the trees. The ground looks like some ancient creature has burst forth as the thick, twisted mokuton slithers out.

In just _moments_ …

Sai clings to Tenzo’s side, dark eyes wide with shock. Above them Madara and Hashirama clash, blades screeching. They jump away and Tenzo loses track of them as he grabs Sai and pulls him out of danger. ROOT agents were trained in stealth and assassination, not to deal with absurd godly levels of power.

“Stay here,” Tenzo commands before he turns back to the epicenter.

When Tenzo sees them again, they’ve lost their katanas and switched to taijutsu, Madara with a kunai in each hand and Hashirama bare-handed. Madara is faster than Hashirama. He’s fast enough that Tenzo struggles to follow his blows and Hashirama bleeds from a multitude of cuts. But they heal nearly as fast as they form and Hashirama uses that to his advantage. He’s slower than Madara, but stronger. They’re flying across the clearing, Madara dancing around the mokuton and Hashirama healing every burn and cut he can’t dodge as they trade blows. Finally, Hashirama catches Madara’s arm and, before Tenzo can yell, slams him into the ground with enough force to create a small crater.

“BOYS!” Tenzo thunders, fear racing in his veins as Hashirama stands over Madara’s dazed form. His head snaps up and turns towards Tenzo. His brown eyes are wide and confused, innocent and completely out of place among the destruction.

“What sensei?” Hashirama asks. But before Tenzo can say anything, Madara’s eyes snap open, sharingan spinning and he bursts upward. Distracted, Hashirama doesn’t have time to defend himself and in moments their positions are reversed. Madara swings up, kunai in his hand. This close Tenzo can see the flash of ninja wire that ties them together as Madara loops the wire around Hashirama’s arm and pulls.

Hashirama falls to the ground with a sharp cry of pain, his arm yanked backwards at an unnatural angle. Madara perches on his back, one kunai drawn tight to trap his arm, the other pressed against the back of Hashirama’s neck.

“Oh come on, I won!” Hashirama complains.

“I didn’t yield,” Madara grins above him.

“Madara put the kunai down,” Tenzo commands, coming to a stop by them.

Madara hesitates and nudges Hashirama’s side with his knee. “Hashi?”

“Ugh _fine._ I yield. But you dislocated my shoulder _again._ ” Hashirama says with a scowl, his cheek pressed against the upturned dirt. Madara loosens the wire and helps Hashirama sit up.

Tenzo wants to say something, wants to demand to know what they think they were doing, why they’re suddenly so calm now. He’d seen intense spars but this…this looked like a real fight.

“One hundred and thirty-seven to one hundred and thirty-five, my favor,” Madara says, grin still in place. Hashirama grumbles and waves his uninjured arm impatiently at the other boy. Madara extends his own hand and together they form the signs for a simple mokuton jutsu. More wood crawls up from the ground. Hashirama breaks off a piece the size of a small branch and holds it between his teeth. Madara stands over him, hands braced on his dislocated shoulder.

Tenzo realizes what they’re planning, “ _wait_ —”

Hashirama hums and Madara, with one swift tug, pops the joint back in place. Hashirama’s yelp is muffled by the wood and once Madara steps back, he spits it out.

“Seriously it just had to be a dislocated joint, one of the only things I couldn’t heal on my own,” Hashirama mutters stretching his arm and testing its range of motion. “Sensei, why’d you have to distract me? Now he’s up by _two._ ” 

“Boys,” Tenzo finally finds his voice, “what were you doing?!”

“Uh, sparring?” Hashirama says as Madara sits down in front of him. Healing chakra surrounds Hashirama’s hands and he leans forward to press his ear against Madara’s back. “Breathe in and out.”

“You consider this sparring?!” Tenzo gestures to the wrecked landscape around them. The few distant trees to survive the first wave of incineration are still burning. The mokuton had completely shredded the ground, creating a violent scar in the earth. Battles in the Third War were less destructive than this _spar._

“What else would it be?” Hashirama asks as Madara swivels around and he lays his head on his chest. “Breathe in and out.”

“Did…did we misunderstand your instructions, Yamato-sensei?” Madara asks nervously, biting his lip. His brows are pinched together, back and shoulders perfectly straight.

“No, I just…” Tenzo pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath.

“Your lungs are good, and I healed all the small stuff,” Hashirama says, leaning back.

“Is this level of destruction normal in your spars?” Tenzo asks, gesturing around them. They both look around, Hashirama craning his neck back so far he almost topples over.

“Oh, Madara those trees are still on fire,” Hashirama gestures to the still burning forest. Madara forms hand signs and once again Tenzo is too slow in his suggestion that more fire will _not_ help this situation. But Madara doesn’t breathe out, he breathes in. Tenzo isn’t a sensor but the area is so saturated in burning and budding chakra even he can feel when all of the burning chakra is suddenly smothered. The flames sputter and die. “We usually don’t spar in the forest, but I’d say this is about normal, right Madara?”

“Yeah…but we haven’t fought anyone for nearly a week. And I’ve eaten at least two meals a day so maybe things were a bit more intense?” He’s talking to Hashirama but looking at Tenzo, waiting to see his reaction.

“Yeah, maybe. So are we sparring with you next, sensei? Or Sai? Ooh! Can we do teams? I wanna be with Madara, we had that Hatake guy on the ropes!” Hashirama pumps his fist and leans against Madara’s shoulder. Tenzo remembers Kakashi with his broken ribs and injured shoulder, he remembers the early, _early_ ANBU morning gossip about a fire above the Hokage mountain, and the walls of Ichiraku’s warping before Hiruzen tasked him to Team 13.

He remembers every legendary story about the battles between Senju Hashirama and Uchiha Madara, how the Valley of the End was ripped out of the earth, the Naka redirected until it made the falls.

Tenzo sighs.

Really, he should have expected this.

**Hashirama**

Hashirama likes being part of Team Yamato, but mostly because he’s with Madara. Still, the others are interesting. Sai’s paintings are amazing and his ink jutsu looks pretty versatile. Madara likes him and has started lecturing him on all the proper ways to be an Uchiha. It’s only a matter of time before he steals Sai’s shirts and demands Hashirama sew an uchiwa on the back. Madara has many skills, but sewing is not one of them. Yamato is cool because he has the mokuton and he’s willing to teach Hashirama. But he’s still an adult and they always mess everything up. Just like now. After his and Madara’s first spar, Yamato insisted that they restrain themselves and not go all out. Even after Hashirama offered to regrow the forest, Yamato still wouldn’t change his mind. It _sucked._

Madara was the only one he _could_ go all out against and now he didn’t even have that! When Yamato said it, Hashirama saw Madara stiffen. He saw the hard glint of defiance in his eyes, but he didn’t say anything, just bit his tongue because Yamato was their sensei. Even worse he took the command as disapproval and it put him in a bad enough mood that Hashirama doesn’t get his post-spar cuddles. Madara liked fighting, liked it even more than Hashirama. And afterwards, even if he lost but _especially_ when he won, he was cuddly.

_Really_ cuddly.

Hashirama knows he’ll be more upset about the ban on actual sparring later, especially when an abundance of energy starts to coil tight and painful under his skin, but right now it’s about his stolen cuddling.

Madara walks ahead in the marching order, no doubt sensing for foreign chakra and working himself up even more over Yamato’s comments. He wasn’t _perfect_ and now he’s upset.

Upset. Not cuddly.

Hashirama glares at Yamato.

“You can pout all you like, but you need to learn control, Hashirama,” Yamato explains patiently but the words still rankle. If he said it in a different tone, Hashirama could close his eyes and it’d be Butsuma speaking. Because, deep down, Hashirama was out of control. The mokuton was a kekkei genkai, the Senju said to themselves and everyone else. They said it because otherwise it’d mean the mokuton, and Hashirama, were something _other._

Sometimes when he sparred with Tobirama, and Itama and Kawarama before they died, he felt like an other. His brothers were good, were prodigies in their own rights. But when the energy built up and up and up, Hashirama would look at them and only see their weaknesses. See every open defense, every way a spike of wood just there, just at that angle…

He was a liability to the Senju. Overwhelming power wasn’t that useful when it’d kill more of your clanmates than enemies because you couldn’t control it right.

Madara was the _only one_ who he didn’t have to treat like glass, who could meet him blow for blow and still scoff and say _that’s all?_

Still, the ban on actual sparring is more of an annoyance. Hashirama knows Madara and he knows Madara will cave within a week despite trying to obey Yamato and they’ll sneak off to some abandoned field or forest and have a proper fight. And still, out of all of the adults in this time, Yamato is easily the best.

He hasn’t tried to take Madara away from him.

Hashirama isn’t smart like Tobirama, but he can read people pretty well.

He doesn’t trust that old Sarutobi geezer or his adviser and the Hatake had attacked them, his dog’s teeth had nicked Madara’s _artery_. Hashirama and Madara founded the village _together_ , but they didn’t act like it. The adults, _all of them_ , looked at Madara like he was a thing, not a person. Hashirama has had time to mull it over on their escort mission and he doesn’t like any explanation he can come up with. What if Madara died early after the village was founded and no matter how hard Hashirama tried only the Senju’s prejudices survived?

It’s a distressing thought. Hashirama has to force himself to stay next to Yamato and not race ahead to Madara’s side and grab him to reassure himself. Madara’s upset and when he’s upset anything and everything makes him more upset. But Madara’s early death would explain the feeling he got from the old geezers. That’d explain why he saw respect when they looked at him and derision when they looked at Madara.

He’s going to change it. No matter what. And _no one’s_ taking Madara from him in the meantime.

The trip back to Konoha only lasts a day now that they don’t have to travel at civilian speed, but it’s also tenser. Madara’s upset at himself, Hashirama’s mad at Yamato, and Sai’s strangely quiet-looking between him and Madara with large, blank eyes.

When they arrive at the village gates, the sun is nothing but a rippling yellow blob sinking below the horizon. The guards greet Yamato but once they see Madara, they stiffen and their voices turn cold. Madara doesn’t notice. Hashirama does.

Anger seethes under his skin. He wants to yell; wants to demand to know why they’re acting like this.

But he doesn’t, not yet.

They enter the village and Yamato gives them instructions to meet at training round thirty-four, a large grassy field on the far side of his and Madara’s cliff in the morning.

Hashirama likes being on Team Yamato, but he _really_ likes when it’s just him and Madara. It’s familiar and comfortable. They walk back home through the slightly run-down streets. The colorful lights have just flickered on for the night and the air smells like spices and meat. Madara is slowly coming out of his mood, he doesn’t have the slight hunch to his shoulders and narrowed eyes that mean Hashirama should back off.

So, he slowly sidles closer, reaching out to wrap his pinky around Madara’s. When the other doesn’t push him away or scowl, Hashirama grabs his hand and intertwines their fingers.

The anger starts to bleed out of him slowly. By the time the still unfamiliar building that is their new home for the foreseeable future comes into view, Hashirama feels calmer than he has since their spar.

Dinner is a small affair. The Hatake said the kitchen was pretty bare but everything looks strange and cluttered to Hashirama, nothing like any kitchen he was used to. There were buttons, dials, and blinking numbers on everything.

He and Madara share a look, open the cabinets, and drag out some of the shiny metal cylinders that Yamato said wouldn’t go bad for a while.

“It says yakitori,” Madara mutters and pierces the top of his can with a kunai. He peels it back and Hashirama leans over his shoulder, inspecting the contents.

“It looks like yakitori,” he says as Madara picks up a pair of chopsticks and pulls out a piece of chicken. He pops it in his mouth, chews, and swallows. “Well—” Hashirama doesn’t get to finish the word before Madara’s snapping up all the pieces, eating in his regular fashion.

So it’s at least edible.

Madara has quite a tolerance for _edible_ though. He dislikes a lot of food but the only thing Hashirama has ever seen him flat out refuse to eat is roe.

He pierces the top of his own can and peels the lid off, picking a piece up and eating it. It’s not the _best_ , certainly not as good as the inn food they had, but considering it came out of a can…

Hashirama savors his meal, eating the pieces one by one. When Madara inevitably looks up at him, then his food, Hashirama gets up and puts two unopened cans in front of him. It was nice being able to ride in the covered wagons, but he’s barely been exposed to the sun.

After dinner, they take a bath. He and Madara sit cramped together, knees pulled uncomfortably close to their chests in the steaming hot water.

“This is a terrible bath,” Madara crosses his arms and Hashirama has to agree. One of them might fit in the tub, but both? No. How was an entire family supposed to use one of these things? Maybe they came in different sizes?

“You just want to take a shower instead?” Hashirama asks, trying out the unfamiliar word. Madara grumbles and stands up with a splash. He repeats what the Hatake did and Hashirama sputters as water shoots out from the top and sprays him in the face.

“This wasn’t built for two people,” Madara mutters as he and Hashirama shuffle around one another. In the spray, out of the spray. Use the weird bottled soaps that smelled like food and Madara tried to eat before gagging. Try not to slide on the slippery tub by grabbing the other’s slick shoulders or arms, repeat.

Once they’ve dried off, it’s time for bed. Hashirama shuffles in first with Madara behind him. The bed might be small, but at least it’s comfortable. He flips over and meets Madara’s eyes as he pulls the covers up. The other boy huffs, cheeks still bright red from the bath and turns until his back is facing Hashirama.

Grinning so wide his cheeks hurt, Hashirama wastes no time in plastering himself against Madara’s back, one arm around his waist. After such a long wait, he’ll at least get some of his cuddles. Only after sparring would Madara let him hold him from behind without a fight and yelling about how much he hates it.

Madara grumbles something under his breath that Hashirama doesn’t hear because his heart is pounding and he feels hot all over. He’s here. He’s with Madara. They’re together. A sudden swell of emotion hits him and Hashirama feels his eyes brim with tears.

“What—why are you crying?!” Madara shouts, shifting to look back at him.

“I’m happy,” Hashirama scrubs his eyes and Madara takes the opportunity to flip towards him. Hashirama whines, mourning his rarest kind of cuddles but stills when Madara reaches out to cup his cheeks.

“Only idiots cry when they’re happy,” he says and Hashirama’s mood darkens. He tries to pull away, he’ll just take his cuddles in peace and sleep then, but Madara holds in him place. Hashirama could break the grip if he wanted to, but he doesn’t. He’s curious. Madara blinks and his eyes swirl into red.

_Never look an Uchiha in the eyes._ It’s the oldest rule of fighting them, but one Hashirama always fails miserably at. He brings his arms up and mirrors Madara, cupping his cheeks. The tomoe spin faster.

“But I guess you’re _my_ idiot.”

Hashirama’s mood soars, so high and bright he almost feels dizzy with the overwhelming rush, and he just… _reacts_.

He leans forward and smashes his mouth against Madara’s. Madara freezes and Hashirama watches, heart pounding against his ribcage, as Madara’s face turns as red as his eyes.

“What. Was. That?” He looks dazed. Ten spars in one day, twenty of Hashirama’s bets and competitions, kind of dazed.

“Uh…” This… _may_ be another one of Hashirama’s poorly thought out ideas.

He leans forward and kisses Madara again, gently this time. Somehow his face gets even redder than his eyes.

“Is…is it okay? Do you mind?” Hashirama asks nervously. He desperately, _desperately_ wants it to be okay. The Senju will expect him to marry and have children for the sake of the clan but...but he doesn't want that. He wants Madara, more than anything in the world! 

“It’s fine,” Madara says, still dazed. His palms dig into Hashirama’s cheeks and then he slams his lips against Hashirama’s. It hurts. Different kinds of tears prick Hashirama’s eyes as he feels his teeth cut into his lower lip from the force of the blow.

But it doesn’t matter.

Madara is kissing him.

It takes a long time for Hashirama to fall asleep that night. He physically cannot stop smiling. One hand is pillowed under his head while he trails the other over Madara’s soft face and neck, where the nemaki has slipped. Their legs are tangled together under the blankets. He’s staring at Madara, giddy and nervous like when they first started to meet and Madara seemed too good to be true.

“This isn’t sleeping,” Madara mutters. His eyes are barely cracked open, the red only slits. Hashirama would worry that he’s overusing the sharingan, but they’ve had days to rest and one short sparring session hardly counted as taxing. Besides, Madara had told him why the Uchiha activated the sharingan outside of battle. Very reluctantly, arms crossed and refusing to look at Hashirama while he explained it, but still. The fact that Madara wants to remember this moment, that there’s been several times Hashirama’s caught him staring with red eyes, it all makes Hashirama puff up with pride.

“I’m not tired.” He isn’t. Hashirama has so much energy, he could run around the entire world…twice.

“Tch.” Madara moves even closer until they’re chest to chest, sharing the same breath. “Sleep.” The red fades from his eyes as he tucks his head under Hashirama’s chin.

His lips press against Hashirama’s pulse point and now he’s even more awake.

He holds Madara close, nearly crushing him by the other’s unamused grumble, but Hashirama can’t help it. This is his perfect dream, become reality.

The next few weeks follow a similar pattern as their first. Yamato ‘trains’ him, but it becomes clear to Hashirama that it’s the nice version of Butsuma’s training. Madara gets to spar with Sai, honestly it’s more of a playfight than a _spar_ in Hashirama’s opinion, while he has to sit down on the grass and try to make exact replicas of the strange statue Madara carved.

“Are you sure this is the only way?” Hashirama grumbles at Yamato who stands by his side, watching Madara and Sai. It’s an even fight, but only because Madara’s holding back. Hashirama can tell. 

“According to _your_ scrolls, yes.” Yamato is cruel. Hashirama looks down at the blob in his hand, even worse than the carving.

“I hate future me.”

If they’re not training, they’re going on missions. At first, they’re all similar to the first mission. Escort this here, that there. One-time Yamato has them do a D-ranked mission in the village. They have to catch a cat. A _cat._

And of course, the cat loves Madara.

“I didn’t think Tora could like someone,” Yamato says with a horrified expression as Tora rubs against Madara’s chin. The only problem comes when it's time to give the cat back to the daimyo’s wife. Hashirama has to pry it from Madara because it won’t let go and then _he_ gets covered in scratches as a result.

“ _That’s_ more like Tora,” Yamato mutters as Sai laughs.

Eventually, the missions turn to B-ranks and then A-ranks. Then they _do_ start getting assassination contracts.

“The bingo book,” Yamato says, handing it to Madara. His words are heavy and sad which Hashirama doesn’t really understand. He leans in close to Madara and watches as he flips through it, staring at all of the information on Konoha’s enemies.

“We’re supposed to kill them,” Madara guesses and Yamato nods. That, at least, makes sense. Hashirama is glad the genin could do simple D and C ranked missions but it was so…odd. Not bad! Just so radically different he felt like an idiot when he struggled with their basic tasks. Hashirama knew a lot about plants and he loved his younger brother but digging potatoes and watching kids as a _mission_ …

He could see the same discomfort on Madara’s face.

An assassination contract was almost a relief. At least until they show up by the gates to leave and Sai is there.

Why did Hashirama assume he wouldn’t be? He’d been on every other mission. But now…Sai is a kid. A kid from _this_ time, not his and Madara’s. He and Madara both had their first kill when they were five. Madara burned a man alive and Hashirama slit a teenager's gut open. He remembers because the teenager caught him in the jaw and knocked out his first tooth. Mother saw it and wept as she pulled him from the battlefield and helped him clean up the blood. That was his and Madara’s life, not Sai’s. He should be doing the cat chasing and the basic escorts.

Hashirama raises a complaint and Yamato mentions Sai is a _special case._ It’s not kids killing other kids on the battlefield but it doesn’t sit right with Hashirama. Madara either, by the scowl on his face.

Because if Sai is one _special case_ , what’s stopping there from being more?

Hashirama doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like it one bit, even as Sai mocks him and teases him for it. It goes on his _something else to change about the future once we get back to the past_ list.

Still, even with training and actual missions, Hashirama gets restless. Sometimes they’re in the village for several days between missions and Yamato still hasn’t budged on his restrained sparring rule. Whenever he and Madara ‘spar’, it’s a joke. Yamato says they can use any technique but Hashirama _can’t_ use the mokuton without destroying enough of the grounds for him to call it quits. Madara can use his katons, he is capable of scaling them down, but then the spars become one-sided. And Madara hates one-sided fights. But Yamato tells him to use ninjutsu as well as taijutsu and bukijutsu he can and Madara’s desire to listen to their sensei wins out.

Most of these fake spars end with Madara as the winner, but it’s not satisfying. He doesn’t count them in their ever-growing tally and Hashirama is glad for that. But, just like he thought, Madara doesn’t last one full week in the village with their ‘spars’ before he wakes Hashirama up in the middle of the night, eyes burning and body coiled with tension.

They mask their chakra and sneak out of the village, following the cliffs until they find a spot in the forest, far out of any sensor’s range. Madara wins that spar too and he’s _extremely_ smug that it’s one thirty-eight to one thirty-five, neither of them has ever trailed by more than two before. Hashirama blames it on the fact that he’s never actually _fought_ someone near his level in the woods at night and, unlike Madara, he doesn’t have the sharingan or sensory abilities to help him see in the dark. He says all of this while Madara puts the fires out and he grows new trees to replace the ones reduced to ash. There’s not a lot he can do about the torn-up ground but it looks _fine._ Especially with the new trees that look exactly like normal trees and not huge, twisted slightly monstrous things.

But Hashirama doesn’t have long to be upset or think about the weird trees because an actual _spar_ marks the return of cuddly Madara and this time with light kisses. It takes them twice as long to return to their tiny house because Madara presses against Hashirama like a cat. One arm is constantly looped around his neck, his waist, or through his arm and Hashirama keeps tripping over his own feet or stopping to hug Madara close because how can he not? The featherlight kisses across his neck and jaw certainly don’t help his concentration.

They’re settling in well, however, they’re not any closer to getting back to their own time. That _might_ partly be his fault. Hashirama has been ignoring the letters from the old Sarutobi geezer to meet for lunch after the first time when he brought Madara and the entire thing was stilted and awkward. The hopeful projection is three months, a number that seems both too big and too small.

Too big because Hashirama misses Tobirama, and he knows Madara misses Izuna and the Uchiha with a desperation that Hashirama doesn’t feel for his own clan. They won’t actually miss anything if they’re sent back to the exact time and spot they left from, but that doesn’t help much.

Too small because Hashirama likes this life. This is the culmination of his and Madara’s dream and sure, it’s not perfect, they need to change a few things, but Hashirama gets to spend all of his time with Madara. There’re no clans to separate them, no need to be afraid of being found together, no punishments for little brothers to keep them in line.

When Hashirama thinks about giving it up, no more Madara next to him at all times, back to at _best_ weekly meetings for two or three hours, the only break from the constant misery and death…he wants to cry. And he does, before collapsing against Madara and refusing to let go. He knows Madara is thinking the same thing when he gets unusually morose, staring at Hashirama with deep, sorrowful eyes.

But those are the bad thoughts and Hashirama’s always been one to cling to optimism and happiness as long as possible. He won’t let the future-past destroy what good he has in this moment.

And there is a lot of good. It’s nice to just _exist_ with Madara and do normal things together. Today they’re _grocery shopping._ Yamato said it’d be at least another week before their next mission so they needed to buy food to keep in the apartment. He looked nervous and kept reminding them when he gave them the money from their recent missions.

Of course, Madara snatched Hashirama’s money right away and kept it in a sealed box because he thought Hashirama couldn’t be trusted not to buy stupid things. As soon as they got back to their tiny house Hashirama threw himself down in his giant frog-shaped beanbag chair to pout. He might, _might_ admit that it _probably_ hadn’t been worth two weeks of A-ranked missions… _maybe._ Madara was still overreacting!

But now they’re walking down the street, an empty bag in each hand and Madara’s carefully hoarded money box in his pocket. They reach the farmer’s market and Madara beelines towards his first unfortunate victim while Hashirama rocks back and forth on his feet, looking around at the variety of stalls and all the people. Madara is haggling with an old lady over the price of oranges.

He’s not good at it. Madara’s haggling usually involves a lot of yelling, glaring, insisting that the price is too high, and insulting the product itself.

Usually, he ends up raising the price, rather than lowering it.

Then, when Madara works himself up enough that he storms off empty-handed to another cart, Hashirama sidles up to the cart-owner and looks up at them with his big, watery eyes.

They fold like a deck of cards; it works every time.

Hashirama hands over his meager amount of money that Madara has deemed his _absolutely useless purchase of the day_ and trots back to Madara, who’s now doing the same thing with the old man selling scallions.

They’re finishing with the farmer’s market, about to head towards the supermarket for the canned food Madara’s gotten fond of, when someone starts shouting.

“YOU!” Hashirama looks up and sees bright orange. The Uzumaki kid. Naru…something. He’s pointing at Madara and stomping towards them. The civilians around them watch with narrowed eyes. Hashirama nudges Madara and he looks up from his handwritten receipts.

“Wha—”

The Uzumaki grabs Madara’s wrist and starts pulling him away. “You’re an Uchiha, yeah? That’s what you said?” He peers back at Madara with squinty blue eyes.

“Yes.” Madara breaks his hold and steps back. “What do you want? We’re busy—”

“Sasuke-bastard doesn’t believe me! I told him you were an Uchiha and you had the weird eye thing after old man Teuchi and Iruka-sensei explained it, but he says I’m wrong! I’ve been lookin’ for you for weeks so I could prove it to him!” The Uzumaki stomps on the ground, pacing back and forth. “You gotta come with me, so I can finally be right! Come on, Kakashi-sensei won’t be at the training ground until two. We can go, you can do the eye thing, and leave. Simple!”

Madara glances at Hashirama, who shrugs. They haven’t been in the village that much, but he’s still a little surprised Madara hasn’t tried to track the other Uchiha down. Especially since he was so keen to adopt Sai and Shin into the clan. After a lot of grumbling and complaining, Sai finally brought them to his apartment to meet him. Shin seemed bemused more than anything when Madara announced he was now part of the Uchiha clan and demanded he hand over all his shirts. Madara and Sai started bickering over the shirt issue while Hashirama offered to heal the other boy. He couldn't heal him completely, it was a chronic illness after all, but Hashirama could at least alleviate some of the pain and symptoms temporarily. And somehow, by the time they left, Madara had a scroll full of both the boy's shirts. Shin winked at them and Hashirama sewed on the uchiwa, it was official. 

“Fine, Naruto, but we’re shopping today. I can stop by tomorrow—”

“No, it’s gotta be today!” Naruto interrupts and Hashirama watches as Madara’s mouth thins into an irritated line. “I can make it worth your while,” Naruto grins and pulls out some crumpled papers. At first, Hashirama thinks it’s money and he’s trying to bribe them. It’d work. Hashirama has standards for bribes, Madara does not.

“What’re those?” Madara asks while Naruto smooths out the papers on his knee.

“Huh? You never seen coupons before?”

“No. What’s a coupon?”

Naruto’s shoulders slump. “They’re things that make other things cheaper. So like, say you’re trying to buy ramen or somethin’. If you buy the right kind, in the right amount, on the right day they take money off,” he taps the semi-smooth paper with all its bright numbers and characters.

Madara’s eyes widen and he snatches the coupon from a protesting Naruto.

“What’s so special about this paper that it makes things cheaper? Is it rare? Is it valuable? Could you sell them for more profit?” Madara asks, side-stepping every attempt Naruto makes to grab him and take the coupon back.

“No! They’re in every newspaper, and some catalogs,” he gives up with a huff, glaring at Madara. “You just gotta collect them. But I spent a lot of time doing just that! So if you think you’re better than me—”

“Tell me what a newspaper is and where to get one and you’ve got a deal,” Madara interrupts, opening the money box and putting the coupon inside. Hashirama has a feeling he’s going to need a second box.

“You’re weird, but deal.” Naruto thrusts out his free hand. Madara shakes it and Naruto hands over the remaining coupons before turning and marching off, yelling and laughing about how he got ‘Sasuke-bastard’ good this time. The civilians glare as he passes, unsettling something in Hashirama’s gut. They look at Naruto like the old Sarutobi geezer and his adviser look at Madara. Still, Hashirama follows behind him, tugging Madara along whenever he slows to look down at his coupons and grin.

Naruto leads them to training ground three. A large grassy field, overlooking a river with three wooden pillars, and a kunai-shaped stone in the middle. By the pillars are two other kids, a girl with pink hair and a boy who must be Sasuke. Hashirama starts when the boy turns towards them. Most Uchiha look similar but he looks _a lot_ like Madara. So close they could be—

“Izuna?” Madara stops, what little color is in his pale face gone. He looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“Eh? Come on, don’t bail on me now! Sasuke’s right there!” Naruto pleads. Madara nods, sharp and jerky, and reaches down to clutch at Hashirama’s hand.

“Hashi, he looks… _exactly_ like him. Not like Sai, that’s…that’s _Izuna’s face._ ” Madara hisses. Sasuke and the girl stare as they get closer. Hashirama knows the Uchiha have different beliefs from the Senju and a lot of them involve death and reincarnation and something about the sun. He can’t remember what it means to have someone else’s face, but he’s pretty sure it’s bad, judging by Madara’s reaction.

“Wow Naruto, I didn’t think you had friends. Who are they?” The pink-haired girl looks at him and Madara. Naruto sulks, a tear running down his face while he mutters _ahh, Sakura-chan_ before snapping back up. Hashirama tsks. He needs to work on his technique.

“This is…uh…what’s your name again?” Naruto turns back to ask Madara.

“Madara.” Madara’s eyes haven’t moved from Sasuke.

“This is _Uchiha_ Madara. I _told_ you there was another one, Sasuke-bastard!” Naruto laughs loudly. “I was right and you were wrong!”

“Tch. You must be kidding,” Sasuke’s eyes narrow, “Uchiha _Madara_? Like any real Uchiha would be given the namesake of a Ghost.” Madara goes so still beside him, Hashirama is afraid he actually fainted on his feet.

“At least I don’t have the face of a dead man,” Madara’s voice is eerie, completely devoid of emotion as his hand tightens painfully around Hashirama’s.

“Really? By your _claim_ you have to be a bastard, otherwise you would have been there that night. A bastard wouldn’t know the faces of the dead. You are _not_ an Uchiha—” Sasuke steps closer, until he’s right in front of Madara, onyx eyes burning.

Madara blinks and the sharingan swirls to life. One tomoe in the right, two in the left.

Sasuke stutters to a stop and Sakura claps her hands over her mouth.

“I am Uchiha Madara of the sharingan, current head of the Uchiha clan. You have no right to insult my name or claim, _cousin._ ”

“You’re not the clan head—”

“I am the eldest.”

“Then I challenge you for the title. For all I know you could be an eye-thief.” Madara inhales sharply and this one Hashirama does understand the severity of. To even be _associated_ with the crime… “My father was clan head, and I am the last Uchiha. The title belongs to me.”

“You don’t want to do this,” Madara whispers softly, staring at Sasuke. The unblinking tension between the two is thick enough to cut.

Sasuke smirks. “What? Afraid you can’t do it without holding your boyfriend’s hand?”

_Boyfriend?_ That seems needlessly specific. Why not just say ‘friend’?

Madara sighs heavily and lets go of Hashirama’s hand. “This will not be a fight to the death. I am not going to kill you.” Madara says as he sets down his mostly empty bag and hands Hashirama the money box. “What are the conditions?”

“Taijutsu and bukijutsu.”

Hashirama picks up Madara’s bag and follows them to the center of the field. Sasuke walks ahead, with Sakura trailing by his side. Naruto stays back with him and Madara, nervously biting his lips and looking back and forth between the two Uchiha.

“Look, uh, Madara I’m sure you’re good but Sasuke’s on a whole ‘nother level. He’s a crazy good prodigy, the number one rookie, I’ve never managed to beat him once during a spar,” Naruto whispers, face spasming as if the words were painful to say.

“I’m sure he’s good, but I’m better,” Madara says, sharingan fading from his eyes.

They take their places across from each other on the open green, mirrors of one another. Sasuke in his high collared blue shirt and white shorts, Madara in his purple and black.

“Go Sasuke-kun! You can do it!” Sakura shouts. Naruto turns to look at him.

“You’re not gonna cheer for your…ahh…guy?” He asks, cheeks turning pink. Hashirama looks up from the money box. He _cannot_ get the seal open. Madara tells him not to waste all their money on frivolous things, but he must have paid a fortune for this!

“Why would I cheer? I’ve seen him fight, Madara’s going to win. I know it. He knows it. What’s the point?” Hashirama shrugs and ignores Sakura’s glare.

“You’re awfully confident to think you can win without your sharingan,” Sasuke says as they start to circle.

“You don’t have it. It’d be an unfair advantage.”

Sasuke’s face twists and he rushes forward, kunai in hand. Madara steps out of the way and he flies past. Sasuke pivots and jabs, but Madara is already a foot to the side. Sakura’s cheering slowly dims as they watch Sasuke try to land a hit and Madara dance out of the way at every turn.

Really it’s not fair. Madara is insanely fast and Hashirama can see every overextended move Sasuke makes, leaving him open with too much energy expended.

“It’s like Kakashi-sensei all over again,” Sakura mutters, hands over her mouth.

Pure taijutsu doesn’t help. Sasuke goes in for close blows and the few that Madara doesn’t dodge all together, he parries and throws Sasuke off-balance. Sasuke stumbles to the ground, only to jump back up with a snarl and even messier footwork.

_This is a prodigious genin?_ Part of Hashirama is glad, it means that there really was no fight or die mentality forced on them since birth. The other part, the one that’s survived battle after battle, is horrified. He wouldn’t last a minute in war.

“Why won’t you hit back?! Stop toying with me!” Sasuke yells, stumbling away. He pants heavily as sweat drips down his face and suctions his shirt to his skin. Madara is unfazed, not a hair out of place. This couldn’t even count as one of Yamato’s playfights.

“I’m trying to prove a point. I’m stronger than you. I told you not to do this, but you didn’t listen to me. This is not a fight you can win,” Madara says calmly. If he wasn’t so intently focused on Sasuke, Hashirama would think he’s bored. He still might be bored. This isn’t an exciting fight.

Sasuke gnashes his teeth and races forward for one last sloppy attempt, throwing kunai and shuriken ahead of him. Madara finally pulls out his own kunai and knocks the projectiles away. Sasuke swings and Madara catches his arm, throwing him to the ground. He kneels, one knee on Sasuke’s back, one of the boy’s hands caught in Madara’s and his kunai against Sasuke’s neck.

“In just…one move…” Naruto whispers, slack-jawed.

“I told you,” Hashirama says, tongue sticking out of his mouth as he rubs at the seal on the box. Maybe if he just scraped it off?

Madara draws a thin line of blood and then steps back.

“I won.” Sasuke scrambles into a sitting position, glaring at him. Madara turns, starting to walk back towards them, and Sasuke throws a kunai at his back. Madara whips around and catches it, fist tightening on its handle.

“You’d throw it at my back like a coward?” He sneers and throws the kunai down at Sasuke’s feet.

_Ah, he’s going to do something stupid._ Hashirama thinks as Sasuke’s face contorts in rage. There’s enough of a familial resemblance between Sasuke and Madara, he can tell. Hashirama sets the money box down and brings his hands together, just in case, as Sasuke runs through the hand signs for a Fireball jutsu.

Madara stands, unimpressed, as the wave of fire rushes towards him. He brings his hands together in four signs and then steps forward, hands extended to part the wave of fire around him. Hashirama watches the edge, ready to put up a wall between Sakura and the fire if necessary, but the cut is wide enough that it burns harmlessly past.

_That’s not a very strong katon._ Granted, Hashirama _is_ used to Madara’s terrifying pyrotechnic displays and they are in an open field with little to burn but…does he even have a fire affinity? 

“You want to try genjutsu, just to see me beat you in that too?” Madara asks, crossing his arms.

Sasuke scowls, face scarlet with humiliation. He doesn’t move.

“That’s what I thought.” Madara walks over to them and picks up his bag. He scowls and snatches the money box back from Hashirama, inspecting it top to bottom, while Hashirama smiles innocently up at him.

But Madara’s eyes are truly terrible, for Hashirama, and he spots the slight scrape in the seal’s paint. “What did I tell you?! We have a budget, one that I painstakingly made to cover all necessities and to start saving!” Madara yells as Hashirama stands and picks up his bag. He ignores the gob-smacked expressions on the others’ faces. “You already spent how much on a fucking frog chair thing that’s not even comfortable to sit in?!” Hashirama grabs Madara’s hand and waves back at Naruto, who manages to raise his hand before it falls slack to the ground. “And I know you Hashirama, you’d sniff out a card game or a dice game or something else as equally asinine and start gambling the godsdamn minute I let you out of my sight!” Madara continues, long past after they leave the genin and reenter Konoha proper.

Two days before their next mission Hashirama successfully convinces Madara to eat out instead of staying in for another day of random fruits and canned food. Madara, the mini-miser that he is, complains and grumbles as they walk down the streets, but ultimately concedes.

They have a nice, fancy dinner at a sushi restaurant and walk hand in hand around the village for a nighttime stroll. Even after several weeks the lights still fascinate Hashirama. Their scale. Their variety. The village is never truly _dark_ and while Madara mourns the strange haze over the sky that obscures the stars, Hashirama loves these tiny man-made ones. They end up on their cliff, above the strange rocky faces overlooking the village. From here it looks like a pulsing grid of light.

“Not very hidden is it?” Madara scoffs, leaning back on his hands.

“No, but it’s pretty.” Hashirama isn’t looking at the village.

He leans forward and presses his lips softly against Madara’s. Feels a thrill that he can, that Madara lets him, that Madara kisses back.

Madara kisses back so enthusiastically Hashirama loses his balance and they topple to the ground. Hashirama laughs, bright and happy, as he cuddles a scowling Madara close. Madara grumbles into his neck and blows absently at a strand of Hashirama’s hair.

“You need a haircut,” Madara reaches up and tugs on a longer piece that curls around Hashirama’s neck.

“You’re always complaining about my hair, maybe I should just grow it out,” Hashirama says, shifting to get more comfortable on the hard ground.

Madara scoffs and yanks hard on the strand. “Long hair is a liability.”

“Yeah, but it’s also a mark of power. That you’re so strong that it can’t hinder you,” Hashirama bluffs, pulling the words out of thin air. He hasn’t heard of that before, but it _sounds_ good. Madara squints at him.

“You think I couldn’t fight with long hair?” _He thinks it was a jab at him!_ Hashirama muffles his laughter and squeezes Madara close. He doesn’t take it well, snarling and trying to shove Hashirama’s face away. “Stop laughing, you idiot! I’ll show you! I’ll have the longest hair of any shinobi!” Madara growls.

“Wanna bet on it?” Hashirama presses his cheek against Madara’s.

“Of course you’d want to gamble…”

“That’s not a no,” Hashirama sing-songs.

“Fine. Ten years and then we’ll see.”

Ten years. He’s been meeting with Madara for one. The idea of _ten_ …Warmth fills Hashirama’s chest and he fights back tears.

“Deal.” And instead of a handshake, he seals it with a chaste kiss.

Afterward, they pick themselves up and make their way back to their tiny house. Just outside the stairwell door, Madara stops and looks behind him.

“Everything okay?” Hashirama asks, pulling the keys from his pocket.

“Yeah…I thought I sensed…” Madara trails off with a shake of his head and they head upstairs for a shower and then bed. 

Early the next morning, Hashirama jolts awake to the sound of someone slapping and hitting their door. His eyes snap open and he barely pins Madara before he could throw the kunai he keeps under the pillow.

It’s not Yamato. After the first time he was nearly skewered through the wood, they developed a very specific knock so Madara wouldn’t think someone was trying to attack them. Whenever Sai came by, he always slipped in through the windows despite Madara’s constant scolding. They visited Shin, he was still on bed rest. It wasn’t any of them so who…

Hashirama rolls out of bed and shambles towards the door. He opens it and Naruto stumbles forward before catching himself and straightening up. He coughs into his hand and shuffles awkwardly back and forth, occasionally peaking up at Hashirama.

“Is…is Madara here?”

Hashirama blinks. It takes him a moment to process the words.

“Madara! It’s for you!”

Hashirama hears a thump and then Madara’s growl as he slips from the bed towards the door. He tightens his nemaki from where it’s loosened during the night and blinks at Naruto.

“What?” His voice is rough with sleep, hair in even more disarray than usual. Naruto looks between them and peers into the tiny house. His blue eyes widen, round as saucer plates.

“Ohh, you two really are together, _together._ ” It’s too early to process what that means so Hashirama just nods, yawning into his hand. “Not that I got a problem with it! People can be really mean about all sorts of stuff and I know what that’s like, so I don’t mind or nothin’,” he babbles on but Hashirama has completely lost the point of the conversation. By the glazed look in Madara’s eyes, he has too.

“Naruto,” Madara interrupts and the boy’s mouth shuts with a click, “why are you here at…” he twists around to look at the weird glowing clock by their bed, “four thirty in the morning?”

“Ah!” Naruto snaps to attention and thrusts something towards Madara. It looks like a very thin, shiny book. “It’s a coupon catalog!” Madara’s eyes snap open at that and he snatches the book up, flipping through it. Hashirama’s vision swims as he looks at all the tiny colorful words and bubbles.

“What do you want for it?” Madara asks, cradling the book to his chest. They are _definitely_ going to need a second box.

“Well…” Naruto rocks back and forth on his feet, “Sasuke-bastards’s the strongest guy I know and you beat him like it was nothin’. I wanna get stronger and the fastest way to get stronger is to spar with stronger people, right? Kakashi-sensei doesn’t take me seriously when I ask and Iruka-sensei is too busy at the academy and you’re nice to me so I thought…” he glances at Madara and then the ground.

“You want to spar with me?” Madara asks and Hashirama barely covers his wince.

“Yeah!”

“I’d kill you.” Madara is merciless, but accurate. Naruto’s shoulders slump.

“O-oh…um…just forget it then,” he starts to back away, eyes still lowered to the ground but Madara reaches out and grabs his shoulder.

“You need a sparring partner that’s equal to you or slightly better. Sparring with someone too far above your skill level won’t teach you anything useful and it’ll just frustrate you both. _But_ ,” Madara’s hand tightens and Naruto glances up, hope shining in his eyes, “I could give you a few pointers. Maybe teach you a trick or two.”

“Really?!” Hashirama can see his body start to vibrate with excitement. Naruto doesn’t wait for Madara to respond, instead leaping forward to grab him in a hug. Madara splutters and looks at Hashirama for help.

“Group hug!” He yells and then crushes both of them to his chest, ignoring Madara’s growled, _"Hashirama_."

Their routine changes a bit after that but only for the better, in Hashirama’s opinion. Madara likes kids. Hashirama didn’t know this, would have never guessed it, until a little civilian girl got lost and stumbled upon them during one of their river meetings. She was no older than seven with eyes red and swollen from crying. Hashirama was readying his usual _distract the younger kids_ antics, useful after a harrowing battle or when one of the adults pushed them too far in training, but it was Madara who acted first.

Madara who approached the girl like a wary animal, with only a low, calm voice and a promise to help her find her parents. Madara who held the girl tight to his chest, rocking her back and forth as she cried and clung to him. Madara who carried her through the woods until they heard her parent’s desperate calls.

It was the gentlest Hashirama has ever seen him. Of course, the minute the girl was out of earshot, he rounded on Hashirama and threatened to cut out his tongue if he ever told anyone. It was still early into their friendship.

Madara likes kids and it becomes very clear to Hashirama that, in his mind, Naruto is a child just like that little girl.

He spends the entire day writing up a terrifying training plan and would even impress Tobirama in how detailed it was. “I like helping Izuna and the other Uchiha kids.” Madara explains as Hashirama’s flips through the plan. He calls this a hobby, but it looks like a full-time _job._ Then, after their ‘training’ with Yamato and Sai, he tracks Naruto down to a tiny house not that far from their own to drag him to an empty training field.

“Show me your basic skills so I can better customize this.”

Madara likes kids, but he’s a demanding teacher.

And that’s what Naruto gets. Not _a few pointers_ or _a trick or two,_ but a full-time teacher, whenever they’re in the village.

Naruto…is a baby, Hashirama decides as he watches Madara correct his form as he makes him run through basic taijutsu sequences. It’s hard to believe he’s twelve, Hashirama feels _old_ compared to him.

And while Madara might be helping him with his ninja skills, that isn’t to say Hashirama isn’t teaching him useful things too.

“You gotta work on the angle of your brows,” Hashirama says, circling his hands around Naruto’s head and pushing down. “The tearful eyes and pout aren’t nearly as effective if you’re furrowing your brows wrong.”

“Hashirama! You better not be teaching him weird shit!” Madara yells from the center of the field where he’s arranging something that looks overly complicated to help Naruto coordinate his shadow clone jutsu.

“Of course not!” Hashirama yells back and lets go of Naruto’s head. “Crying is really useful for getting people to underestimate you, so is playing dumb, but don’t try either with Madara. He can see through it like that,” Hashirama snaps. “Buuut Madara can be swayed by very well-timed flattery. If you ever piss him off or you really, _really_ want something call him ‘Madara-sensei’ but don’t,” Hashirama pokes Naruto’s nose and watches as he goes cross-eyed and swats his hand away, “overuse it.”

“You’re kinda scary, you know that Hashirama?” Naruto squints up at him and Hashirama almost topples over from laughing so hard.

Life is good. They have their missions with Team 13, ones that get more complicated and take them out of Fire Country and into other Lands and Hidden Villages. Hashirama is making slow, _agonizing_ process with the mokuton thanks to Yamato. He doesn't know what to call his new relationship with Madara, but whatever it is it's simply the best and it makes his chest ache with happiness. Whenever they’re in the village Yamato insists they meet for lunch every two days no matter what, especially after the _microwave incident_. In his defense, the Hatake never said anything about not being able to microwave metal. It didn't help that once the machine started sparking, Madara ran it through with his katana. It has yet to be replaced. Every time Sai invites himself over to be a nuisance, they pay him back in kind. But Madara's a stick in the mud and won't let him pull pranks, not with there being a chance they could disturb Shin or ruin his books. Their lessons with Naruto quickly turn into lessons plus a latenight trip to Ichiraku’s. Hashirama is no longer banned once he lays down a new floor and promises never to use the mokuton inside again. This is the one and only time Madara's not stingy with money. He treats Naruto every time after finding out how little genin get paid for D-ranks. 

Life is good and then they get the assassination contract for Momochi Zabuza, Demon of the Hidden Mist.

Right away, there’s a complication.

“Well you’re in luck Tazuna. There’s another team also headed to the Land of Waves for a mission. They’ll also be accompanying you until you reach your destination, for free.” Hashirama hears the old Sarutobi’s voice as Yamato slides the wooden door open.

They don’t know his exact location so they have to act as an escort cover.

Inside the room are familiar faces. The Hatake and his genin. Naruto is being held off of the ground by the scruff of his jacket, kicking and flailing, yelling about how he’ll kill the bridge builder.

“Great. Six brats instead of three,” Tazuna mutters, taking a swig from his bottle.

Madara scowls but before he could say something, or Yamato could tell him _not_ to say something, Naruto wriggles out of the Hatake’s grasp and bolts towards them.

“Madara-sensei, Madara-sensei!” He slams into Madara, who only keeps his footing because Hashirama catches him. _This counts as overusing it._ Hashirama thinks to himself. He’d poke Naruto’s nose if his face wasn’t buried in Madara’s chest. Behind the long desk, the semi-familiar man with a scar over his nose faints and the old Sarutobi’s pipe drops out of his mouth, spilling tobacco on his scrolls. “You’re the other team?! We’ll be doing our first C-ranked mission together?! That’s so cool!” Naruto babbles on as Madara tries to extract himself from the boy’s grip and push him back.

“Ooh, you have competition, Hashirama,” Sai smiles, wide and fake, as he leans around Hashirama.

“Sai,” Yamato sighs, dropping his head in his hand.

“Competition?” Over what? The mission is cooperative.

“Unless you’re into _that_ —”

“Sai!”

“Long time no see, Yamato,” the Hatake says, but his eye is on Hashirama.

“How’re your ribs, Hatake? Did they heal well?” Hashirama smiles widely and the older jonin shudders, retreating behind his two remaining genin. Sasuke is glaring at Madara, arms crossed, while Sakura is looking between all of them with an expression _remarkably_ similar to Yamato’s.

There’s no way this can end poorly…right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP Zabuza, the power-scaling, even scaled-down, is just too great. 
> 
> I warned you all about the time-travel! There are a bunch of "what-ifs" for the situation but what I call the core main three all have their own form of unique and terrible angst. 
> 
> 1\. Madara and Hashirama do belong to the timeline and they get sent back, memories wiped only for the exact events to unfold because Madara has a deep, unshakeable belief that something *bad* will happen to the Uchiha clan. This is one of my favorites bc if canon played out Naruto would now have a personal relationship with both of them and the final villain (Kaguya who?) would be one of his first friends/mentors to encourage him. 
> 
> 2\. Madara and Hashirama do belong to the timeline but they keep their memories (see the first possibility only with Hashirama remembering but not Madara for extra special angst). If they don't end up making things worse, which I think is a v possible outcome, you run head-first into the dilemma of the ethical butterfly effect. Even if *everything* is perfect, which it wouldn't be lbr, certain people who would have been born now wouldn't be. They existed, the boys had met them, but now they don't. Would this be a form of killing? And, if applied to a world-wide scale, how many of these not-deaths exist? 
> 
> 3\. Madara and Hashirama are from a parallel branch. First and foremost, the Uchiha are permanently dead and in one fell swoop they lost everyone else back in their timeline and never got to say goodbye. That'd put a *heavy* strain on Madara and he could very well snap from the pressure. You also have the...uh...whole village history as a ticking time-bomb plus a rather unstable 12 y/o Madara, who Hiruzen and Danzou are now trying to kill. One of my favorite further lines here is Danzou/Hiruzen succeeding, and Hashirama defecting and eventually trying to use edo-tensei. But bc they are from a different branch, it's this timeline's Madara that gets resurrected. If Hashirama was older it definitely could be darker romance, but I personally would like a weird mentor-student relationship between the two as they work to destroy the village. 
> 
> There are more, but those are the main possibilities I had in mind. Time-travel doesn't solve problems, it just makes things interesting.
> 
> **Edit 1/20/21:** These "options" are still broadly applicable, but may not be followed exactly. See Chapter 6's author's note for more non-spoilery details about the ending.
> 
> Also I could find a place to fit this in the fic but, you better believe Gai eventually sees a bowlcut child that is not his bowlcut child and tries to adopt him. He, Lee, and Hashirama get along like a house on fire. Hashirama occasionally joins them for training while in the village. Usually, he'll drag Madara with him who'll bluster and complain but do all of the rival-esc things with Hashirama. Lee wants to achieve their level of ~rivalship~ and Neji, who has a working pair of eyes, is staring off into the distance, wondering what he did to deserve this. 
> 
> Tomorrow's piece is actually art (it will be posted here too bc having 5 parts for a 7 day challenge hurts me). The little sneak peak I'll give for it in place of the summary is: tengu. 
> 
> I also post more HashiMada stuff on [Tumblr](https://mira--mira.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thank you for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! It means a lot to me! <3


	2. Land of Waves: I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was supposed to be 5K. Supposed to be a one-shot. Supposed to *not* completely take over my life and set fire to my writing schedule, become my 2020 NaNo project, and spiral into a behemoth of an au that is inching towards 90K words...
> 
> Anyway...I'm back, just in time for Madara's birthday! ;)
> 
> Jokes aside, the response to last chapter, all the support and comments were so sweet, I teared up several times tbh, and it all really inspired me to continue this project! Originally I was planning to finish up all of the Wave Arc and post it in one go but uh...I passed 40K words and thought you know...chapters exist for a reason. I have about 80% of everything written, technically the wave arc plot is completed it's just wrapping up and transitioning points now (bc yes I am going to write the chunin arc for this au) but the Wave Arc isn't edited...and it desperately needs to be. So I plan to start posting weekly as I edit and finish this arc up and then I'll post daily once everything is complete. I have no idea how long that's going to take, I expect it to be after 4-5 weekly updates but I'm making no promises on that front. 
> 
> Also, I added new tags for this fic and bumped up the rating to M (for violence and death regarding Team 13's missions, they do kill people please be aware). If you've made it this far and read the tags, Team 7 will become important secondary characters that we see a lot of but for all intents and purposes, Hashirama and Madara are the MCs here. This au is my indulgent pet project where the end-game op terrors run around and simultaneously make things better and worse (and I haven't forgotten about the time travel devil's-bargain) 
> 
> Some editing things: I went back and tweaked chapter one a bit, mostly grammar stuff I missed in the first edit, a few things added for clarity's sake, but I also changed up a few details to build on new worldbuilding points, when Hashirama and Madara arrived (originally it was in the summer but has been changed to spring), and changed a few lines around Madara and Hashirama's relationship (expectations to be married for political reasons/to have heirs/how the Senju and Uchiha differ in their understanding of 'love' most of it is vague and implied and will be expanded on in the coming chapters but just FYI), and added in a paragraph that Hashirama and Madara have met Shin. Nothing big has been altered though, no new scenes or plot points changed/added besides the aforementioned and one snippet about the "microwave incident" which appears at the very end of the first chapter right after "you're kinda scary you know that, Hashirama?" IMO it's not necessary to re-read just to pick up those tidbits, I just added them to ease in the now multi-chaptered nature of the fic but I wanted to let returning readers know!
> 
> All of that out of the way, enjoy! ~

**Madara**

“Madara, do you remember what I said about telling me before you adopted anyone else?” Yamato-sensei asks, looking down at him as they make their way to Konoha’s large wooden gates. They’re at the very back of the formation while Hashirama and Sai are in the middle, distracting Naruto. Well, Hashirama is stopping him from flying back into Madara to chatter about doing a joint mission and Sai is making incendiary comments about his loud mouth. Kakashi, his two other genin, and the bridge builder are at the front, dutifully ignoring everything happening behind them.

“I didn’t adopt him, Yamato-sensei.” He would never disobey a direct command from his sensei. Naruto was an Uzumaki, not an Uchiha. Or did Yamato-sensei count taking on a student as a form of adoption? Madara knows some clans blurred that line, the Senju especially, but the Uchiha so rarely have contact with any outsiders that they didn’t have any protocols on the matter.

“Really?” Yamato-sensei sounds skeptical.

“Madara-sensei, Madara-sensei! Look at this really cool rock—” ahead of them Hashirama has Naruto tucked under one arm like a tiny dog as the boy waves a stone around in the air.

“Are you a ninja? Or just a loud, squealing pig?” Sai mocks and then darts out of the way as Naruto fumes and throws the rock at him.

“He’s my student.”

“And you were a teacher in your…time?” Madara has noticed since the other genin joined them Yamato-sensei has avoided directly mentioning the time travel incident. He and Hashirama haven’t _hidden_ it per say, but they’ve never told Naruto point-blank they’re from the past.

“The Uchiha have few official sensei,” to be a full-time trainer meant you would be taken from the war effort. You had to be so good at teaching that it added more skilled shinobi in battle than was taken from it. It was an honor, but one Madara would never have, “but I like helping the younger kids.” Usually it was heart-breaking. Madara knew their skill levels, so far below his own. Depending on the assignment, he’d almost always know whether or not they’d survive it. When the Uchiha scrambled to put bodies on the front lines, it was always the youngest who fell first.

But he was also able to save a few. Madara knew when they’d fail, when they couldn’t handle it. He’d know when to watch them, guard them, and put himself between them and danger. He did it for Izuna. He did it for Naori. He did it for Hikaku. He did it for countless younger cousins.

“I know I’m not really his sensei,” he won’t call himself that, won’t give himself that kind of title, “but Naruto is…young. By Uchiha standards.” Madara can’t recall ever having to learn the most basic things he taught him. You knew them or you died. Sometimes, when Father felt particularly morose, he’d say the Uchiha had to be born with battle in their blood, if they wanted to take their first breath. Madara wasn’t born with just battle, he had the entire war and all its death caged inside him, a true sun-blessed prodigy. It was…usually a compliment. “I’m just showing him the basics so he doesn’t get killed.”

Yamato-sensei blinks, then smiles. “You’re worried about him.”

“He’s a child.” Madara stares at the dusty ground and jolts slightly when Yamato-sensei ruffles his hair.

“I bet you’re a good sensei, Madara. Would you mind if I watched once in a while? You can probably give me a few good tips.” Yamato-sensei winks.

Madara splutters, cheeks bright red as he insists Yamato-sensei is a great teacher and there’s nothing Madara could possibly add that he doesn’t already know.

He’s still rambling when they pass through the soaring gates and Naruto wriggles free from Hashirama’s hold. Hashirama catches his collar and hauls him back before he can tackle Sai to the ground.

“That brat’s really a ninja?” Tazuna asks, pointing at Naruto. “Can he actually do this?”

“Ma, ma. Don’t worry, Yamato and I are both jonin. We’ll watch over him,” Kakashi says with a wave of his hand. Naruto pouts and spins around to yell at Tazuna, declaring himself an awesome ninja who’ll become hokage one day and he then everyone will acknowledge him and—

Madara stops paying attention when Yamato-sensei gives a low whistle. _Gather._ Sai and Hashirama turn away from the spectacle and walk over to them.

“We’ll be in modified A formation for the five-day journey. Madara and Hashirama, you’re the rear. Sai and I will take mid-position next to Tazuna and Kakashi will take point.”

“What about the Hatake’s genin?” Hashirama asks as he reaches out to grab Madara’s hand.

“Mid, this is their mission but,” Yamato-sensei looks over where Kakashi is holding Naruto back from pouncing on Tazuna while Sasuke and Sakura stand idly by, “for all intents and purposes…we’re guarding four people.”

They nod and scatter.

This mission is…annoying. Madara would prefer a clean-cut assassination. They’ve had to do undercover missions before, just…not with another team. Especially not one so inexperienced. But it was necessary. They had been working the bingo book for months. Patterns in the killings were bound to emerge, but they had to take every opportunity to obfuscate any connection to Konoha and Team 13. If someone was looking for patterns, they’d be searching for four black-masked nin in violet cloaks, not two genin teams escorting a bridge builder on a simple C-ranked mission.

At least that _was_ the plan.

The plan that completely falls apart half-way through the first day.

The first issue: Kakashi’s genin are terrible with instructions.

Their formation is a _joke_ and they don’t keep it for longer than ten minutes. Madara shoos Naruto away from him and Hashirama at least three times in the first hour because he is _not_ part of the rear guard. It might be a C-rank but if they were ambushed Naruto would be in the way, he’d limit how well he and Hashirama could maneuver. The dirt road isn’t _wide_ and the trees on either side of the path grow close together, this environment is best suited for his speed and Hashirama’s mokuton, not an abundance of shadow clones that they’d trip over. At the very least Sasuke and Sakura stay by Tazuna but their focus is shit. Sakura is trying to draw Sasuke into idle conversation and he’s ignoring her and Tazuna both. And Kakashi…

Kakashi’s not at the point position. He’s walking next to Sasuke, hands in his pockets, slouched over. One of Tazuna’s sides is completely exposed to the forest. Madara can think of a hundred ways to dart in and kill him before Team 7 could properly react.

Hashirama squeezes his hand, thumb rubbing slow circles over his first knuckle in an effort to soothe him as Madara steams.

Maybe it’s unfair of him. They were pretty relaxed on their first C-ranked mission too and as far as Team 7 knows this is _only_ a C-rank mission, not pretense for anything else. Only an escort, no different from Team 13’s tea mission.

_Kakashi should know better, at the very least. Yamato-sensei would have told him we’re doing an A-rank. He should be focused._

And then there’s the second issue: the puddle.

The one with two enemy chakra signatures hidden inside.

Transformation jutsu.

Madara doesn’t react except to nudge Hashirama’s thumb away and draw the simple character for _enemy_ on his palm. Hashirama’s brown eyes flick to his and Madara tilts his head back.

Hashirama lets go of his hand.

They take ten steps beyond it and then turn in unison just as the figures burst out. 

“If you’d like to surrender, do it now,” Hashirama says as one flies ahead, metal claw and chain swinging. They don’t.

 _These aren’t jonin._ Madara lets two kunai loose as he draws his tanto. This is hardly a dance; he would barely qualify it as a warmup. Their steps are stumbling and weak. Beside him, Hashirama clasps his hands together. The kunai sink into the chain links and thud against a newly raised piece of mokuton wood, yanking the first enemy back and pinning him.

Madara jumps towards the caught enemy and catches sight of his partner further back, just as a spike of wood pierces through his gut like a blade and he collapses with a wet, sickly gasp.

“Wait! Take one—” Madara’s blade meets flesh and bone, the tip piercing through armor and ribs to sink into the heart, “—alive.” He turns from the two dead shinobi to see Kakashi’s pinched expression. “Terrors…” The genin are frozen in shock, wide-eyed and pale behind him. Only Sai leans casually back, unconcerned.

“If you wanted them alive you should have said that before,” Hashirama says as the wood sinks back into the ground and Madara wipes the blood from his blade. He kneels next to the first body and starts searching it, nose wrinkling at the smell.

“Information gathering is standard practice. Now we don’t know _why_ two rogue chunin attacked us.” Unfortunately, he’s right. Madara searches both bodies but besides the slashed Kiri headbands finds nothing identifying them or their mission. He pockets anything useful, they don’t have many kunai or explosion tags, and stands. With the war and all their assassination contracts, it’s just second nature to go for the killing blow after they disregard Hashirama’s offer to surrender.

_This is why simple assassinations are better._

“This is my fault for not clarifying,” Yamato-sensei interrupts before Hashirama could start arguing. “From now on if we _do_ run into any other enemies, non-lethal attacks.”

“Yes, Yamato-sensei,” Madara and Hashirama bow but Hashirama still glares at Kakashi as they start to clean up.

“Now Tazuna, do _you_ know why two enemy ninja attacked us? Because it’s rather odd that they’d choose to attack genin teams with their jonin present. But a contract for a bridge builder…” Kakashi says cheerily even as his one visible eye narrows.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I hired you for protection, but I had no idea about any chunin.”

“Liar,” Hashirama mutters as they drag the chunin Madara killed over to his ally. “He knows something.”

“Not related to ours?” Madara whispers as they drop the chunin and step back.

“Unlikely,” that’s true, they had never been unmasked on one of their assassinations, “plus with how sketchy the bridge guy is acting…” Hashirama rolls his shoulders, glancing over at the adults who are still arguing. Tazuna keeps insisting he doesn’t know anything. “Think we’ll separate after this?”

No matter how unlikely, there still was a chance that the chunin came after them, not Tazuna or Kakashi and his team. And if that was the case and their identities had been compromised this would be bumped from an A-rank to S. From Madara’s understanding the bingo book was a supposed to be a source of information first and foremost. _If_ recorded nin were spotted in Fire Country without proper registration, they could be killed without too much hassle. The way Konoha used them, entering other countries to assassinate enemy nin on foreign soil…wouldn’t go over well with other countries he’d been told. Especially with the other great nations, they were already so paranoid and obsessive about letting any foreign nin enter their lands.

All the fucking _paperwork_ they had to do just to enter Suna…

That mission was under the pretense of delivering the chunin exam summons, a simple C-rank, while they tracked down and killed one of Sasori of the Red Sand’s last known associates in the desert.

Madara shakes his head and pushes the thoughts from his mind. Now, he focuses on the bodies and runs through the hand signs for Final Pyre. It’s not quite the same jutsu he’d use for Uchiha funerals, the final triad of horse-dragon-tiger isn’t added, but it’s enough.

Madara breathes out and a thin stream of fire washes over the bodies and catches. It wavers, no stronger than a candle flame, flickering delicately. Then, in an instant, the fire deepens and screams, a scorching inferno kept caged by his will alone. The flames aren’t colorful, they don’t dance and sing as the soul departs to Amaterasu’s Embrace. Instead they remain steady red, only blinking to white at the fire’s height before snuffing out completely.

In less than a minute the bodies and their metal armor are gone, reduced to ash that’s pulled along by the wind.

“Thanks for all your help, otouto,” Madara cuffs the back of Sai’s head when he and Hashirama make their way back to Yamato-sensei.

“It was your mess, why should I help you clean it up?” He huffs. Madara catches him in a headlock and draws him close enough to pinch his cheek. Sai grumbles and tries to break free but he has no leverage and Madara has held a squirming Izuna in the exact position for hours before. “I’m disowning you.” Sai hisses and sinks his blunt nails into Madara’s arm.

“Can’t. Need the clan head’s permission for that.” Madara grins and then braces himself as Hashirama leans against his shoulder, laughing at Sai.

“Boys,” Yamato-sensei sighs but he doesn’t tell Madara to let Sai go, so he doesn’t.

“Are we continuing with the Hatake and his genin?” Hashirama asks, shifting even more of his weight onto Madara.

“Yes. But because we can’t confirm who the two chunin were after,” Madara bites back the apology on the tip of his tongue for inconveniencing their sensei, “we’re delaying before sailing out to the Land of Waves. Team 7 should be safe on the water and if we are the targets that’ll hopefully draw them out. Understood?”

“Yes, sensei!”

**Kakashi**

On the other side of the road, Team 7 was having a very different kind of briefing.

The problem, primarily, was that his cute little genin weren’t paying attention. Not that Kakashi could blame them. This was supposed to be a simple C-rank mission. Clean cut, easy, nothing exciting about escorting a bridge builder. Yet not even a day in and it’s all gone to hell.

Death is a shinobi’s constant companion.

Delivering it or succumbing to it, death is a lurking shadow in their profession, never far from sight. All of his genin know this but up until this point, for Sakura and Naruto, it’s only been theoretical.

There’s a profound difference between theory and practice.

And seeing the terrors’ brutally efficient methods and overall nonchalance at killing is not the way Kakashi would have chosen to expose them to this bleak reality.

Naruto and Sakura are shaken.

Naruto is recovering the fastest, his eyes are bit clearer, he reacts more to Kakashi’s voice. He’s in shock, a shock that will quickly fade away. Sakura is not. Sakura’s wide, panicked eyes stay pinned on the terrors, god all _three_ of them now, or firmly on the ground. Kakashi knows Sakura is the smartest on their team. Her memory and text-book knowledge are unrivaled but he worries for her the in the more violent aspects of their profession. _She’s from a civilian background_. That has never been clearer to him.

And then there’s Sasuke.

Sasuke who’s seen death before. Sasuke who, out of all of them, is the most prepared for the reality of this life. Sasuke who’s now staring at Madara in abject horror and fear, pupils shrunken to needle pinpricks. He has a feeling he knows what Sasuke sees, _who_ Sasuke sees when he looks at Madara. Kakashi spares a quick moment to be grateful that Madara’s hair is a spiky mess and not drawn back in a smooth, low ponytail.

His genin are reeling, horribly unfocused, and they still don’t know why they were attacked in the first place.

Oh, Kakashi has _ideas._

Ideas that involve a poor bridge-builder from a poor country being desperate enough to smudge the details of his request, but those are unsubstantiated. And if Tazuna was willing to twist enough details to fit a C-ranked mission instead of a B or A-ranked, he’s not giving up the goose now. Especially not with the current situation working out for him and he suddenly gets Team Murder Happy for free. Four jonin or equivalents. Kakashi has no idea about the apparent _other_ Uchiha wearing a crop-top but he wouldn’t have been placed with Tenzo if he wasn’t at a similar level. And while he could technically call off the mission and return Team 7 to Konoha he knows he’d get dogpiled from his cute little genin and get a lecture from the Sandaime for, technically, interfering with Team 13’s mission to wipe the bingo book clean.

He knew Danzou would get over his disgust if it meant harnessing even a fraction of Madara and Hashirama’s power for himself. This entire thing reeks of the ROOT specific kind of rot. 

Tenzo named Momochi Zabuza as their target.

What were the chances that Zabuza was the one targeting Tazuna?

Kakashi swears he can hear the universe laughing at him.

**Hashirama**

It would be an understatement to say things after the whole chunin ambush are _tense._

Well…things with the Hatake and his genin are. Everything is pretty standard for Team Yamato’s missions, but the others are definitely dragging things down. Hashirama’s glad to be in the rear formation with Madara, swinging their linked hands, as everyone stews ahead of them.

Madara berates him, tells him to pay attention and take things seriously but he’s not as uptight as he was when they first set out. They already dealt with the enemies. And enemies that weak weren’t the kind to do anything smart with a second assassination attempt. If they were, they would have sent actual competent people in the first place.

It’s why Hashirama doesn’t think _they_ were the intended targets.

Still, he remembers only after they start walking again and the mood turns gloomy that this _wasn’t_ standard for Team 7. It occurs to Hashirama, like a lightning strike from the sky, that this might be the first time any of the other genin had seen someone die.

They were twelve and they’d never seen a dead body…

Tears prick at his eyes. The thought is so warm and heady. He feels a bit bad to have killed someone in front of them, but…but the thought of making it to _twelve_ and not seeing death it’s just…Hashirama can’t even _imagine._

 _They probably haven’t killed anyone either._ And that’s the full realization that has happy tears streaming down his cheeks. If the children remained genin and genin were only supposed to be assigned relatively safe D-rank and C-rank missions…

There are no kids killing kids.

Most kids don’t even kill adults!

Hashirama turns and crashes into Madara, pulling him into a hug.

He grumbles but drags Hashirama along instead of pushing him away. By the bittersweet curl of Madara’s mouth, he’s thinking the same thing. 

The rest of the day passes peacefully and they settle down for the night with two completely different team dynamics. The Hatake and his genin are still quiet and morose, the bridge builder has hardly said anything since the confrontation. Hashirama still thinks he was the target. Or, at the very least, that he knows something and isn’t telling them.

Team 13 on the other hand…

Madara lights the campfire and then plops down at Yamato’s side, watching as he cooks. Yamato or Sai were always the designated cooks on missions. Hashirama had the unfortunate ability to burn water and Madara was too impatient and fire-happy to make anything edible. With their cooking supplies, some mushrooms Hashirama found, and two rabbits that Sai’s ink birds caught, they have the makings of a good curry.

“Yamato-sensei, if you need someone to do a taste-test…” Madara’s black eyes are locked onto the simmering pot, flames dancing in their depths.

“You’ll be the first person I ask, Madara.” Yamato stirs the pot and adds in the seared rabbit strips. Madara leans forward but Hashirama tightens his arms around Madara’s stomach and leans them both back, away from the fire. Madara grumbles but Hashirama isn’t _technically_ behind him, he’s sitting at an angle, with his chin in the crook of Madara’s neck and shoulder, his legs stretched out to the side.

“If you want I could make the fire hotter, maybe cook it a little faster—”

“And char it until it’s practically coal that no one but you will eat, just like last time?” Sai interrupts, leaning around Yamato’s other side.

“Shut up, it wasn’t that bad.”

“Yes, it was.” Sai grins maliciously.

“It was a…bit singed.” Yamato says carefully, eyes on the fire.

“I nearly chipped a tooth.” Hashirama laughs and plants a kiss on his cheek. Madara slumps back against him, crossing his arms with a huff. He stays there until Yamato decides the curry and rice are done and ladles out their bowls. Madara pushes away to get his first and is already almost finished with it as Team 7 and Tazuna make their way to the fire.

“Are you planning to feed an entire village with that thing?” Tazuna grumbles as he takes a bowl and stares at the cooking pot. It is pretty big. If they tried really hard, both he and Madara could fit inside. Hashirama knows, they tried. It was one of many cooking supplies that Yamato kept in a _very_ expensive storage scroll, one that was big enough to fit everything and store food without it getting…weird from being sealed.

“It’s necessary,” Yamato laughs as he ladles Madara a second bowl. Hashirama raises a bite to his mouth, but his eyes are still on Madara.

One of the _best_ things about the future is the abundance of food. Madara’s cheeks almost look _round_ and now whenever Hashirama hugs him he can feel a layer of muscle and fat first instead of paper-thin skin stretched over sharp bones.

Hashirama smiles, forces down the happy tears that well in his eyes, and leans against Madara’s shoulder.

He doesn’t get stabbed for it, doesn’t even get a blustering threat.

After dinner, Yamato assigns them tasks. Since he seems hesitant to leave the still shell-shocked genin behind, they stay in the camp. Hashirama is assigned more carving practice. Sai’s supposed to continue working on some new ink creature he’s been designing. He always shoves Hashirama and Madara away whenever they ask what it is, hovering protectively over the scroll. Madara is on weapon-cleaning duty and immediately demands to see Hashirama and Sai’s blades. Of course, he _asks_ Yamato for his.

“Why’re you nice to Yamato-sensei but so mean to me?” Hashirama complains, using one of Madara’s crossed thighs as a pillow while he messes around with wooden branch. He knows old him said this was the only way but it was so _boring_ to try and replicate the same thing, day after day.

“Yamato-sensei is our sensei and elder, he is to be respected,” Madara growls staring down at one of Hashirama’s kunai. He…may have forgotten to clean that one after burying it in a sap tree last week. Oops. 

“Technically we’re older than him,” Hashirama mutters at the same time Sai coughs, “teacher’s pet.”

Madara snatches the not-carving from Hashirama’s hands and hurls it at Sai. He ducks and the branch splinters as it hits the tree Sai’s leaning against. He’s gotten _really good_ at dodging lately.

“Hey! I was practicing,” Hashirama pouts and grabs a spare branch he gathered for this exact reason.

“No you weren’t, you were carving smiley faces.”

That... _could_ count as practice. Maybe. But Hashirama doesn’t defend his notable artistry because Naruto stands and slips across the invisible camp boundary to ‘their’ side. The boundary doesn’t exist for the adults, Yamato and the Hatake have been speaking in low tones since dinner ended and Tazuna wanders around in an effort to ‘stretch his old bones so they don’t go stiff’ but the Hatake’s genin have remained firmly in their spot under a large oak tree and not moved since. Until now. 

“You know how to maintain weapons?” Madara asks before Naruto can speak. He’s still subdued, disturbingly quiet compared to his normal self. Hashirama doesn’t understand, but he’s trying to. He doesn’t remember how he reacted when he saw a dead body for the first time or when he first killed someone. There was the teenager, but the only memory he has after was one of confusion because there was a gaping bloody hole in his mouth and he didn’t know losing a milk tooth was normal, that another would grow in. He had no real feelings at all about his first kill. He couldn’t even say he felt anything particularly strong about the adults after, except a lingering grief that he couldn’t afford to focus on. He had to protect Tobirama, mourning strange enemy adults until he was sick with heartache wasn’t going to do anything useful. It was only when he had to raise his sword against another child, someone weaker and younger than him, that the anguish rose and he…he…

Hashirama lets out an unsteady breath just as Naruto stutters out a ‘no’ and Madara pats the ground next to him.

“You should show him how to use the new kit,” Hashirama says before Madara can start on his training spiel. He’s using the old maintenance kit that they had to go to some weird antique store to find because Madara didn’t like the new ones sold at the ninja supply store.

“This one is better.”

“It’s also like a hundred years old now—”

“Aren’t you supposed to be practicing?” Madara flicks him between the eyes. Hashirama pouts and turns on his side, towards the fire. “Now, Naruto…”

Hashirama deserves _some_ credit, he does try to concentrate on his carving. He gets the basic frog-fox whittled down in the dim firelight, and then does his best to grow an exact replica with mokuton.

He’s got five barely round blobs and beads of sweat rolling down the side of his face that’s not pressed into Madara’s leg before he loses focus half-way though the sixth. There’s a pair of eyes on them. Or, to be precise, one eye on Madara _._

Hashirama looks up and stares until the Hatake’s eye darts down to him. He smiles, slow and wide, and watches as the man shudders.

_He still hasn’t apologized for what his dog did._

Never let it be said that the Senju didn’t know how to hold a grudge as well as any Uchiha. Madara wouldn’t like it if he did something now, not while they were on a mission but…if he was sneaky…

Hashirama starts to snicker and Madara flicks his ear. The cartilage throbs with a sharp pain.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking but stop it.”

“And what if I was thinking about you?” Hashirama flips towards him, mokuton practice forgotten. He reaches up to poke Madara’s cheek. It’s comical paired with Madara’s flat, narrowed-eyed gaze.

“Did I stutter?”

_Somebody’s still pissed about the dirty kunai._

“How…how did you guys do it? How are you the same?” Naruto blurts out. He looks away, nervously twisting his kunai in his hands, whetstone and polish abandoned by his side.

“What are you talking about?” Madara asks as Hashirama lets his hand fall, craning his head back to look at Naruto.

“Those two…those other guys came out of nowhere. But you just…reacted, while we just stood there, useless. You knew what to do and you didn’t hesitate to…to…” He trails off, biting his lip.

“To kill them?” Madara prompts and Naruto flinches before nodding. “Naruto…Hashirama and I…we didn’t grow up in the village. We lived in a place so different, so far away it was like…like a different world.” Madara is struggling with his words. He’s not the best at being comforting and Hashirama hopes this doesn’t blow up in his face like it has before. There’s been more than one incident of a child tripping or getting lost in the markets only for Madara to try and help only to make it worse. Hashirama reaches up and squeezes his calf. “We reacted like we did because it wasn’t the first time we’ve been ambushed. Those weren’t our first kills.”

“You grew up somewhere…rough.” It’s a question, but not.

“Yes.” Madara shuffles and wets his lips. “We grew up in a war. There are no children in war, only shinobi. You kill or you are killed.”

 _I won’t let Kawarama be disrespected! He was a shinobi, not a child!_ Butsuma’s voice echoes in his head. Funny, how so many lessons between the Uchiha and Senju were the same. A breeze rustles through the clearing and Hashirama feels cold.

“That’s not fair.”

“No,” Madara hesitates but reaches out to pat his head, “but the village is here now. It makes things better.” _There’s an end to the war, a light at the end of the tunnel._ What he doesn’t say, but what Hashirama hears. But they have to end it. They have to go back to the war to do it. He pushes back against the rising wave of anguish.

It’s like Naruto said. It’s not _fair._

Everything around them is a reprieve. This future that isn’t quite as bright as they first thought, but still blinding compared to the past. But, Hashirama thinks morosely, sometimes the bright light makes it even more unbearable to return to the darkness. Your vision isn’t the same. You can’t see in the dark anymore and only long for the light.

“It’s alright that you didn’t react as fast. You’re still a little kid, still learning, still growing. There’s no war now, you have time. This…this is your time,” Madara’s voice grows tight and Hashirama gives his calf another squeeze, letting his hand trail over the bandage wrapped limb.

“Yeah, well…well I’m gonna get so strong and powerful I’ll be able to put an end to any war and protect all my precious people! You two and Iruka-sensei and…and Sakura-chan, Kakashi-sensei, and even that Sasuke-bastard!”

Hashirama worries for half a second that Madara’s going to take it the wrong way, as a challenge or subtle dig against him. But his split-second worry is for nothing. Madara’s expression softens and it really is like that little girl all over again. 

“And become the hokage, too?” He ruffles Naruto’s hair.

“Exactly!” Naruto shoots to his feet and marches back towards Sakura and Sasuke, yelling that he wants to spar right here and now.

“Naruto it’s time for bed! Not for training!” Sakura yells, the most emotion she’s had since the chunin ambush.

“Aww, you’re so sweet to kids,” Hashirama grins and pokes Madara’s cheek again. This time he gets a better reaction, Madara blushes and crosses his arms defensively over his chest.

“Remember what I said about cutting out your tongue?”

“So cute.” Hashirama lifts his other hand and squishes Madara’s cherry-red cheeks together.

“Gay,” Sai coughs and then ducks when Madara throws Hashirama’s whittled frog-fox at him.

Soon, they settle down for the night.

It was Team 13’s unspoken agreement that they’d be doing their regular nightshift schedule, regardless of Team 7. It’s not that Hashirama doesn’t _trust_ the other genin but…how were they going to detect potential enemies? None of them had any sensory abilities, as far as he knew, and Naruto _definitely_ didn’t have any suitable jutsu. Sakura and Sasuke were wild cards but the same paranoia that kept him alive also refused to let three newbies be responsible for keeping watch while he slept.

They shuffle around, preparing for bed and laying out the sleeping bags. Sai raises one finger and taps it against his chest. Yamato raises four. Hashirama two and Madara three. Team 7 is still squabbling, something about beauty sleep, Naruto snoring, and Sasuke-bastard having an irritating face. The Hatake is staring at the starry night sky, defeat drawn tight around his shoulders. Tazuna is already on his side, asleep.

Hashirama tunes them all out as he slips into their sleeping bag and pulls Madara close, until they fit together like two interlocked puzzle pieces. They’re the furthest away from the banked fire, near the forest’s edge. It’s summer, there’s two of them in one bag, and Madara produces enough heat that even during their early spring missions Hashirama often woke up sweating. Fire affinities. But that heat was definitely welcome in Suna when the temperature plummeted below freezing in the desert. Hashirama liked cuddling, but he didn’t like it when he got elbowed out of the way from a shivering Sai and Yamato.

“Stop thinking about Suna,” Madara grumbles and Hashirama realizes he’s been squeezing him too tight.

“I had to cuddle your leg,” Hashirama mutters into the skin of his neck. And even then, he had to sleep with Sai kicking his head and putting cold toes on his neck.

“It was _your_ idea to stay an extra week.” That was…unfortunately true. Hashirama begged Yamato, pulled out every stop and cried real desperate tears to find any reason they could stay longer once their cover mission and actual mission were done. That was in part because Hashirama was the one to push for a mission in Suna to begin with.

The reason was quite simple.

Since their time travel issue hadn’t been fixed yet and the old Sarutobi geezer couldn’t delay the chunin exams any further than he already had, an extra month or two was added to the lengthened timeline of their return. They arrived here in mid-March but it was already August. There was a very real possibility of not having any results before winter.

Madara had a winter birthday.

December 24th, a date he off-handedly mentioned in a long spiel about Uchiha traditions that had something to do with their sun goddess. Hashirama didn’t remember the specifics, he had been more focused on repeating the date over and over to himself until he knew he wouldn’t forget it. 

If there was even a _chance_ they’d be here, be _together_ …

And Hashirama knew exactly what to get him. But for _some reason_ he could only find it in Suna. It was a bitter discovery after he spent days prowling through every relevant shop in Konoha and just happened to see a visiting Suna nin with one. Hashirama could make the raw components, but he needed a master to assemble it and he just knew it was going to be expensive.

But he wasn’t giving up!

Certainly not when he tracked down one of the best craftsmen in Suna, paid absolutely every single ryo he had saved and won gambling for the rush order and then waited. His hard work wasn’t going to waste just because they had to leave early!

In the end it was worth it and Madara’s present was stored safely in Hashirama’s battle scroll because he didn’t know where else to put it where Madara wouldn’t immediately find it. Their tiny house was just that _tiny_ , there was no place to hide it. And if he told Madara _not_ to look at something, of course he was going to shove past Hashirama at the first opportunity and tear into it. It’s what _he’d_ do, after all!

But that didn’t matter because the present was _perfect…_ he hoped. Madara, like usual, is either going to love it or hate it, no in-betweens.

“I had my reasons for staying,” Hashirama sniffs and winces when Madara’s palm digs into his gut, pushing him back. Reasons Madara didn’t like because Hashirama refused to tell him. “Come on, don’t be like that,” Hashirama says as he peeks over the top of the sleeping bag. In the moonlight he sees Sai still drawing under his tree and Yamato’s back towards them in his own bag.

“Then tell me why you wanted to go to Suna so badly. It was nothing but _sand,_ Hashirama. You were miserable without the trees.” Also true, unfortunately. Hashirama had never been out of the Land of Fire before. He knew the Land of Wind wasn’t going to be the same but still… There were hardly any plants. There were no forests. Plenty of sun but after less than a day in the desert he felt like he was about to lose his mind and claw his skin off.

“It’s a surprise. I’ll tell you, I promise, but trust me for now?” Hashirama bats his eyelashes and Madara gives in with a sigh and roll of his eyes.

“ _Fine._ ” 

Hashirama grins and leans forward to kiss him, a quick brush against his lips. Madara grumbles but he’s not really upset because when Hashirama pulls away, he leans forward to kiss him back. Hashirama feels like he’s floating, he’s never going to get tired of kissing Madara. It’s warm. It’s comforting. It’s _relaxing._

It sucks that they can only kiss in their sleeping bag on missions. Oh sure, Hashirama will occasionally kiss Madara’s cheek and vice versa, but a peck on the mouth? No.

It’s one of those things that Hashirama gets irritated at Yamato for but it’s probably a better reaction than he’d get from other adults. Whenever Hashirama kisses Madara, or the one time Madara kissed him in front of Yamato, it always led to a very weird and confusing conversation, _every single time._

Something with birds and…bees?

Yamato will clear his throat, eyes darting back and forth, as he starts an incredibly strange ramble. Hashirama’s heard it four separate times now and he still doesn’t know what Yamato’s talking about. Just that they _always_ have to have the conversation and it _always_ leads nowhere. Madara didn’t get it either and the last time it happened, he asked Yamato if he was talking about some Aburame jutsu.

Hashirama…he doesn’t have words to describe the expression Yamato made. The shapes his mouth twisted into. The noise that crawled out of his throat. The complicated up and downs of his eyebrows. What Hashirama does know is Sai actually collapsed from laughing so hard he started to wheeze and cry. They had to stop for nearly half an hour for him to get his bearings. Madara, embarrassed, had promptly declared that he wasn’t kissing Hashirama on the mouth in front of either of them anymore.

And it wasn’t any fun to kiss him if he didn’t kiss back, so waiting until night it was.

It’s worth it though, he thinks as Madara runs his hands through Hashirama’s hair, their faces bent close together, legs tangled in the bag. Madara’s staring at him, eyes warm and red even in the gloom. He hardly blinks, he hardly _ever_ blinks really, and Hashirama might like being the focus of that searing gaze a bit too much if he’s honest. It used to unsettle him, even before he awakened the sharingan, how quickly Madara could cut him to the bone with a look. Every mask, serious or playful, stripped away and Hashirama felt exposed and _seen_ in a way he rarely was.

He should hate it, but he doesn’t.

Hashirama wants that intense gaze, wants Madara’s attention, wants to revel in being seen and having every secret buried deep inside exposed. Because Madara is still looking, still watching with warm eyes.

He is known and understood and Hashirama, even in his short painful life, can _feel_ the solid weight of that miracle, how rare and precious it is. His gift from the divine. Happy tears well up in his eyes and Madara’s hands drift down, brushing them away. They share the same callouses but Madara’s hands are more scarred. He doesn’t have a sharingan, but Hashirama could draw them from memory. Not imperfections, but grounding proof that Madara is flesh and bone, real and mortal. Hashirama can still hardly believe it. He used to wake up in the Senju compound wondering if it all was a dream, too good to be true, too sweet to be real.

It’s better now.

When Hashirama wakes up with Madara’s head on his chest and half-dried drool on his skin, it’s easier to believe that somehow, by some miracle, this is his reality.

“Stop crying, you’re going to get dehydrated,” Madara scolds, but his tone is gentle as he tilts his head forward, pressing their lips softly together. His are chapped, Hashirama knows he bites them when he’s bored or anxious, but they’re warm.

So warm.

He falls asleep like that, so relaxed and content, Madara’s lips against his own.

“Stupid Senju,” is the last thing he hears before his eyes slip shut and Madara tugs him down and closer, resting his chin on the top of Hashirama’s head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always loved that Hashirama was a bit of a romantic. "Gift from the divine" still kills me in how sweet and loving it sounds. He has a silver tongue in comparison to Madara's lead one, I'm p sure "show each other our guts" has a different connotation in Japanese but god if it's doesn't sound slightly off and awkward to the English ear. But he's trying!
> 
> Given the state of Konoha's uh, absolute lack of mandated therapy I feel p comfortable saying sex-ed probably ain't top the list either. Yamato is doing his best with few resources, trying to be helpful without being judgemental, yet still impress the importance of waiting and not rushing into things...it'd really help if he just said "sex" though. The metaphors...they're not clicking chief.
> 
> I do want to reassure everyone though, I tried in this chapter (and when I went back to clarify some things in chapter one) to emphasize that, while Hashirama and Madara are very physically affectionate with each other, every "kiss" has been more or less a light peck or just them pressing their lips together and staying close. To be blunt, there is no tongue. I personally don't feel comfortable writing anything more sexual between them, this is most physical they're going to get at this age bc they are still kids. However, god knows the way this fic is going there might *be* a timeskip and we'll get into Shippuden where everyone's 16-17 and their relationship will be more mature. Hell, if I know at this point LOL. 
> 
> Final thing, my biggest canon divergence is, and always will be, making fire a credible threat once again in the magic ninja world. To this day, one of my saltiest moments in all of Naruto is watching Madara get hit with Sasuke's Amaterasu and just casually take his clothes off, no harm, no foul. Human beings are FLAMMABLE and the pinnacle of the fire clan's fire techniques should have, at the very least, been a passing CONCERN. 
> 
> I'm still salty so now there are *reasons* behind the apparent fire immunity and it does tie into the whole sun-cult thing. Also, while I'm not completely disregarding canon like in BoaF, some things are getting scrapped. And first on the list is the reincarnation shit. Madara is 100% a "moon" personality to Hashirama's "sun" like Sasuke is to Naruto but that plot point was the final straw that broke the whole "~Naruto is a story of an underdog~" for me. I absolutely despise what it does for the story's og themes and characters' individual decisions because now everything is ~fate~ and ~destiny~ not choice. Indra and Asura exist, but they are just ancestors. And now I take every chance to drag the sun/moon dichotomy bc I can. Plus the Uchiha were perfectly set up to be a sun-cult since their dojutsu are canonically based on Shinto gods, and Amaterasu the sun goddess is associated with fire and justice and one of her main creation legends was that she was born from Izanagi's left eye. Fire, justice, and eyes, what more do you need?!
> 
>   
> The next chapter will be posted on Thursday, December 31st. 
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://mira--mira.tumblr.com/) for more content!
> 
> Thank you for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! It means a lot to me! <3


	3. Land of Waves: II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I was doing individual chapter names this one would be: Sasuke explains his religion and does Not have a good time. I'm sorry angry duck-butt son, it'll get better...eventually. 
> 
> Enjoy!~

**Hashirama**

The next four days are more in line with an actual C-ranked mission.

Nothing exciting happens but Sakura and Naruto recover from the first day’s violence. Naruto is loud and chipper as ever, while Sai is back to mocking him and then ducking behind Madara before Naruto can wrestle him to the ground. Madara himself has loosened up a bit when it comes to maintaining their formation, but only slightly. He’ll let Naruto badger him for a few minutes before snapping that he’s on an important mission and has to take guarding the bridge builder seriously.

Sometimes Naruto will argue back and, because they’re both _loud,_ it’ll turn into a yelling match until they really do lose any and all cover of stealth. But most times Naruto will snap to attention and attach himself like a leech to Tazuna’s side and the old man will turn back and glare at them.

Hashirama doesn’t know what would be considered _normal_ for Sakura but there’s more color in her cheeks and she doesn’t have the dazed, unaware eyes that he’s seen on shinobi returning from blood-soaked battles. She spends most of the time they’re walking trying to court Sasuke and arrange a marriage between their families. She makes _no secret_ of this. She’s also failing terribly, her points falling flat because they’re all appeals to emotion rather than material benefits of a union between them. Hashirama hasn’t heard of the Haruno clan before, doesn’t know what their relative status or wealth is, or what that’d even mean in the village’s context rather than the never-ending fight to gain power and resources of his and Madara’s time. Still, it’s daring that she’s so blunt and forward with Sasuke. The Uchiha don’t marry outside their clan.

_But with the Massacre…_

Hashirama’s heart aches and he squeezes Madara’s hand clasped within his own.

And while Sakura is nearly single-minded in her goal, sometimes Hashirama will catch a look of intense concentration on her face, just as she glances back at him. She always turns away before their eyes lock.

Sasuke…Sasuke is still struggling. Hashirama doesn’t know him, but it’s pretty clear something is wrong from his teammates and the Hatake’s reactions. Sakura tries to court him and he doesn’t reply, not even to dismiss her. Naruto tries to pick fights with him and gets no response. He’ll talk to the Hatake but only in low tones when they have some measure of distance or privacy from the others.

It doesn’t take long for Hashirama to connect the _weirdness_ to Madara. Sasuke stares at him from the corner of his eye, tracking his movements like he thinks Madara is about to attack him.

Hashirama doesn’t understand _why._ He’s a Madara expert, not an Uchiha expert. As far as he knows, Madara hasn’t done anything to antagonize Sasuke. Is it still because of the dead chunin? Or from the botched clan head challenge? A mixture of both?

Hashirama doesn’t know. Sasuke’s mood takes a turn for the worse on the fourth day and Hashirama has no idea why _._

That day passed as normally as the previous three. Around midday Naruto and Sai really got into it and, like usual, Sai came running at Madara to use him as a human shield. However, this was the _fourth time_ he’d done it that day and they hadn’t stopped for lunch yet. Madara’s patience was at a razor-thin breaking point. He caught both of them by their necks and dragged them close. Naruto was clearly the victim, the giant ink stain on his cheek reading ‘dick’ left little doubts so Madara released him and turned to lecture Sai like usual.

And it was that, _usual_.

Nothing out of character except Sai’s main target for antagonizing pranks was Naruto instead of Hashirama or Madara himself. Madara berated him and flicked him between the eyes. It was an innocent gesture, one he’d done to Sai, Naruto, and Hashirama before. But that was the moment Sasuke sucked in a sharp breath and broke from formation, racing into the forest instead of staying on the well-trodden path.

“I’ll go get him,” the Hatake said and they decided to stop for an impromptu lunch. Madara didn’t notice, he was busy lecturing. Sai didn’t notice, he was busy being lectured. Naruto and Sakura looked equally confused. Hashirama turned and met Yamato’s eyes. His expression was pinched, he’d made the connection.

Hashirama didn’t know what that was about, but he’s going to get to the bottom of it. A bad feeling twists in his gut.

Finally, around midafternoon on the fifth day, they arrive at the pier with the ferry to the Land of Waves. It’s a small boat, _ferry_ is much too generous. The worker greets Tazuna with a hug and a clap on the back but it’s clear that even if the original plan had stayed the same, there’s no way they’d all fit in the boat. Not that it would have been a big problem, Team 13 could just run across the water, but it provides an even better excuse for them staying on the shore.

“Aww, do you have to stay back? Why can’t we just get a bigger boat?” Naruto asks, swiveling back and forth from the Hatake to Yamato.

“Sorry Naruto, but we’ll just catch the next one across. Our mission isn’t as time-sensitive as yours,” Yamato smiles but Naruto shudders and pulls back. That’s…fair. Sometimes Yamato’s smiles look weird, even when he’s not trying to do the funny one. They come out stiff and awkward, but then half of Madara’s smiles look maniacal so Hashirama’s used to it.

“Hmph, it’s clear which of these groups of brats are better prepared,” Tazuna huffs, eyes narrowing as Naruto sticks his tongue out, “I don’t see why Team 13 or whatever your number is, can’t cross with me while Touma comes back for the other group.” This wasn’t the first time Tazuna has tried to convince the jonin that Team 13 should accompany him instead of Team 7, but this is the first time he’s been so blatant about it.

 _Well, he’s definitely the target. This all but confirms it._ But Tazuna hasn’t admitted it. And unless he explicitly did and explained why…

“Sorry Tazuna-san. Technically Team 13 isn’t even on this mission, they just had the same destination. What is it you’re doing again, Yamato?” The Hatake turns to look at Yamato.

 _Yeah, what_ was _their undercover story again?_

“Ah, delivering Himari-san’s monthly letter to her friend, Yui-san.” Yamato holds up one of the thickest envelopes Hashirama has ever seen. That’s _one_ letter?

Wait…shinobi deliver _letters_ now? Even the Hatake looks a bit disgruntled.

“She doesn’t trust the post and she’s wealthy enough to hire ninja, it’s a time-honored tradition.” Yamato smiles, clearly enjoying himself. 

“Riiiiight. Anyway, Tazuna-san. You’re with us, unless there’s something you want to say?” The Hatake pins him with a look and for a moment Hashirama thinks he’s going to break and finally admit the obvious, but he draws himself up at the last second, mouth set in a firm line. “Well then, time to say goodbye kiddies,” the Hatake looks at his genin, “terrors,” he looks at them.

Naruto sniffs and runs at him and Madara, wrapping his arms around them both. Hashirama, never one to pass up a hug, throws the one hand that isn’t in Madara’s around Naruto and squeezes.

“Hashirama,” Madara growls when Naruto starts to wheeze. He pouts, Naruto is _fine_ , he’s sturdy! “Remember to focus on your mission. Don’t get distracted, and you’ll do fine.” Madara pats Naruto’s head and then Team 7 and Tazuna are gone, paddling into the foggy mists surrounding the Land of Waves.

They stand on the pier and wave them off. Sai, who’s at the very front, holds up a scroll that must have something inflammatory on it because the Hatake barely catches the back of Naruto’s backpack as he screeches and tries to jump into the water. The boat sways, tipping dangerously to the side before it rights itself.

“Sai…” Yamato sighs but Sai merely laughs and rolls up the scroll.

They wait a few more moments until the boat completely disappears. 

Then Yamato straightens.

“We’re hunting.”

Four Konoha nin step back into the forest.

Four black-masked, violet-robed nin slip up into the trees, setting a needless trap.

**Sasuke**

Madara’s not _him._ Madara’s not _him._ Madara’s not _him._

It’s a litany that’s been repeating endlessly on loop in Sasuke’s head for days now.

Madara is a wannabe Ghost who was given his name by an at _best_ well-meaning but idiotic parent or at worst as an effort to capitalize on the reputation of the only known Ghost’s name. Either way, no real Uchiha would keep that namesake.

It’s a point Sasuke still maintains, but this entire mission has been a _disaster._

After his humiliating display in the clan head duel, he resolved himself to beating Madara. It would be a good test, something to measure his progress by. Madara wasn’t as good as _he_ was and if Sasuke could beat Madara, he was one step closer to his ultimate goal. Nothing else mattered. Not the fact that the dobe apparently got the wannabe Ghost to be his teacher, not the fact that _another_ fake Uchiha appeared on this mission, not the fact that Madara seemed disturbingly knowledgeable about Uchiha clan customs. They were all distractions.

And then the chunin ambush happened.

Sasuke was prepared. He was the best of Team 7, he could have taken them out. But by the time he turned and drew a shuriken, the two chunin were dead.

In the deepest, _deepest_ part of his mind he could admit his unease about the other boy started even before their duel. Sasuke isn’t a sensor-nin but there was something about Madara’s burning chakra that made him feel unsettled. But the unease doesn’t grow into _something_ until he sees the boy standing over a dead body with a bloody blade in his hand.

Sasuke’s vision blurs and it was _him_ , it was _that_ night, the chunin was Father and his dead, empty eyes were staring, staring, staring—

He swallows down the bile in his throat, but just barely.

Ironically, it gets easier to distinguish them when Madara runs through the signs for a modified Final Pyre.

Even though _that_ raises a completely separate, all-consuming dread that bubbles up like thick sludge in his gut.

Final Pyre is only taught to the heir or head of the Uchiha clan. It’s the first katon the Sun gave to them, used exclusively for those that died in combat to welcome them swiftly into Amaterasu’s Embrace. Grandmother told him it was a common sight during the Warring States Era when entire battlefields would be doused in colorful flames, anything the flames caught would be reduced to ash. It’s the jutsu Sasuke _should_ have used for the clan after they…after they…

He couldn’t.

Final Pyre was an A-rank jutsu that required something _more_ than just hand signs and a fire affinity. It was a fundamentally _lost_ jutsu and had been for generations because the gods were fickle and selfish.

Madara, the _original_ , was made into a Ghost. Banished, stripped of his titles, his image to be forgotten, his name never to be spoken on an Uchiha tongue again. The elders had estimated there were forty-four Ghosts, but the number was constantly contested. To be so fully _erased_ like the Ghosts were…nothing was left. No trace. No name. No face. _Nothing_. The only indicators were generations after. If a name stopped being used, did it fall out of favor or was it a Ghost’s? Did certain documents and lineage lines get lost or was a member made into a Ghost? Were certain techniques dropped because new, better ones were made or were they created by a Ghost?

Of course, that didn’t really work with the original Madara. No matter how hard the clan tried, his shadow was inescapable.

It didn’t help that there was a giant mural of him in the Nakano shrine, hidden under a false wall at the very back of the main prayer room. It was the very antithesis of what a Ghost should be, but it was made in a desperate plea to please Amaterasu.

Gods were fickle.

Sasuke remembered Grandmother saying that as they kneeled in front of the Ghost’s mural, lit incense, and prayed to the Sun. _He_ always refused, it was one of the things he and Father would fight about every year.

“You are the heir, if _anyone_ —” Sasuke can barely remember the sound of Father’s voice. It’s something he never thought he’d lose until it was already too late.

“No. He’s a Ghost. He betrayed us yet you praise and kneel to Konoha’s oldest enemy.” Sasuke can remember _his_ voice all too well. He was nitpicky about things like that, even before. Sasuke didn’t want to do it either if he didn’t, but Grandmother would tighten her hand around his wrist, swollen joints creaking, and hold him in place as she brought the prayer beads to her lips.

The Winter Solstice dawned. The Sun died. She was reborn three days later.

Every year from the Solstice to the Rebirth, they kneeled in the Nanako, praying. But Amaterasu never gave her sign. She looked away from them, like she had every year.

That’s not how it was supposed to be.

The scrolls made that clear. 

The Uchiha were loyal to their goddess and in return she gave them gifts beyond measure, her flames and her eyes, the chosen of the Sun.

An Uchiha blessed by Amaterasu could make the smallest flame dance and writhe with power, could scorch the land until it was black and empty, could walk through infernos untouched. Even those with only a small blessing could stand peerless among non-Uchiha katon users.

The Ghost had been her champion. According to scrolls, he was born from a sun-blessed mother on the same day as Amaterasu’s rebirth. Even by the sun-blessed standards, he’d been a monster in sheer destructive power.

He betrayed them, their clan, the village. An _eye-thief._

But the gods were selfish.

The Uchiha cast him out, made him into a Ghost and Amaterasu turned away from them for the slight.

Uchiha Hikaku, Sasuke’s great-great-grandfather, became the head of the clan. His son had no fire affinity. His granddaughter had no fire affinity. His great-grandson had no fire affinity. His great-great-grandsons had no fire affinity. That was the one aspect _he_ failed to be a prodigy beyond measure in. Skilled at katons but with no affinity and no blessing.

Maybe, if it had just been the fire, the clan wouldn’t have reacted as it did. Sasuke doesn’t know. It’s not like he can ask the dead. Final Pyre quickened the soul to Amaterasu’s Embrace, but it wasn’t _strictly_ necessary. But, the sharingan started to disappear too, in every generation following the Ghost’s. He does remember some of _those_ conversations.

During clan meetings when the ceremonial braziers were lit and sharp shadows danced on Father’s worn face as the clan gathered and kneeled on silk cushions. Sasuke always sat off to the side next to Mother and Grandmother, with _his_ hand on Sasuke’s shoulder.

They weren’t clear or fond memories.

The Elders yelled at each other while the clan argued, tension hanging like heavy smoke in the air. One side claiming it was the Hokage and their continued exclusion and bias that was making them weak, stealing away the kekkei genkai that defined them. Another yelling it was Amaterasu’s continued disfavor, none in the clan head’s line had been born with even a basic fire affinity for four generations despite selective marriages. A smaller third whispering it went beyond the Hokage, it was the very village itself that had been set against them from the start. Sasuke didn’t know _, doesn’t know_ , what they meant.

Only that when the last whispers rose, that was when _he_ tightened his hand on Sasuke’s shoulder until it was nearly painful. His expression…that memory is preserved with what Sasuke thinks would be a sharingan level of quality. It could very well be the moment he decided to…to…

It doesn’t matter. They’re all dead.

Sasuke was the last Uchiha and he didn’t have a fire affinity, let alone Amaterasu’s blessing. He might not even have her eyes.

But apparently _Uchiha Madara_ did.

Sasuke stopped believing the Uchiha’s patron goddess cared about them when she let the clan be slaughtered and left the shrines to rot. Now he wonders if she actively took pleasure in their suffering because of one damn Ghost.

Why else would his namesake be given the blessing? And it becomes horribly, _horribly_ clear he has the blessing.

The scrolls said it would be recognizable in the smallest flickering flame to the largest raging wildfire. And if knowing Final Pyre wasn’t enough, Sasuke watched when Madara lit the campfire the first night. Watched as the flames curled and caressed his hands, not leaving the slightest pink burn in their wake. He remembers how Madara diverted his own Fireball during their duel. Four hand signs weren’t enough. Not unless you had no fear of being burned.

Honestly, Sasuke doesn’t know which is worse. That Madara turns into _him_ if he loses focus or that there’s a very good chance that, _somehow,_ Madara is the great-great-grandson of the Ghost. 

Holding onto one of the possibilities helps banish the other but there are only so many times he can switch between either distressing thought. When Madara flicks the other fake Uchiha’s forehead, it’s too much. It’s not _his_ tap but it’s too similar. The scene blurs and Sasuke has to get away.

He runs into the forest, as fast as he can before his stomach turns and he’s forced to stop to throw up. Kakashi finds him there, bent over and gagging. He doesn’t say anything, just leans against a nearby tree, porn in hand but his eye on Sasuke.

“We’re splitting up tomorrow,” he says, turning a page that he’s not reading. _Can you make it until then?_

“About time. They’re holding us back.” Sasuke sits back on his haunches, taking slow breaths with his head tilted up. He hasn’t been able to focus on this mission at all. He’s supposed to be getting stronger. Proving himself. Avenging his family. Not seeing half-formed memories and ghosts wherever he goes.

Kakashi hums and stays with him until he can push himself to his feet and walk back to the group.

Sasuke is disgustingly relieved when they get into the boat and the ferryman pushes away from the dock. The figures of Team 13 fade as they enter the heavy mist. He’s annoyed when the dobe nearly capsizes them because the second fake Uchiha held up a scroll with a caricature of Naruto squealing like a pig.

“Naruto…” Kakashi, grabbing his backpack. The boat tilts, Sakura and Naruto both start yelling.

“Shh! Keep it down!” The ferryman hisses as they drift into the thick mist. “We’re trying to hide in the mist, why do you think I’m not using the motor?”

_Hide?_

“Ma, ma Tazuna-san. Any particular reason we’re _hiding_ in the mist?” Kakashi asks with false cheer. Tazuna looks down, scraping his sandals over the boat’s wooden bottom. “I can call off the mission once we get land ashore, Tazuna-san.”

“Hey, hey! Don’t do that! It’s our first—” Sakura slaps her hand over Naruto’s mouth, cutting him off.

“I _will_ call off this mission if you fail to provide all relevant information.”

Tazuna is silent, but his mouth twists into a frown, hands squeezed tightly together until his fingers are pale and bloodless. Sasuke can see the faint shudder that ripples through him and the beads of sweat that gather on his brow.

“Tazuna.” Kakashi doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t yell. Yet every hair on Sasuke’s neck prickles and he fights the urge to hunch over, suddenly aware of how dangerous their easy-going sensei is.

Tazuna breaks.

“I had hoped with that other competent team…” Tazuna trails off with a sigh and a bad feeling curls in Sasuke’s stomach. Sure, Madara and his boyfriend killed the chunin but he and Kakashi could have handled it. Maybe not Naruto or Sakura, but Kakashi was a jonin. Sasuke was the number one rookie. Why does he feel so unsettled? “I’m being targeted by a very dangerous man.”

And Tazuna explains that the very dangerous man is _Gato._ The international shipping magnate who had the money, time, and resources on par with a daimyo. The Land of Waves was his next expansion project and the bridge was a threat to business.

“This is a B-rank mission at least,” Kakashi’s voice is careful and controlled but his hand tightens around the book that’s lying facedown on his knee.

“A C-rank was all that we could afford.”

The words hang in the air.

“Iruka-sensei explained the difference, but…but surely a B-rank isn’t that big a deal, right?” Naruto asks, fidgeting at the prow of the boat. Kakashi doesn’t answer, merely sighs and throws back his head. He puts the book away and reaches into one of his flak jacket’s pockets, drawing out a scroll, then a kunai.

“You recognize the name Momochi Zabuza, Tazuna-san?” Kakashi asks as he cuts into his thumb and unravels the scroll.

“Kakashi-sensei! What’re you doin—”

“Tazuna-san?” He interrupts Naruto, eyes on Tazuna.

“N-no. Is he supposed to be one of Gato’s men? I don’t know their names.”

“Oh, I have no idea if Zabuza is connected or not,” Kakashi says casually as he smears his blood down the scroll’s length, “but let’s call this a gut instinct.” The scroll snaps together and a tiny _dog_ appears in the boat with a puff of smoke. “Pakkun, it’s time.”

Pakkun visibly deflates. “Time for me to become kibble…”

“Such a deep voice…” Sakura mutters as Naruto yells, “Puppy!” and tries to grab Pakkun, who jumps out of the way.

“Just…avoid the trees…and the ground…and the terrors…it’ll be fine.” Kakashi waves his hand and the ninken glares up at him.

“Easy for you to say, boss.”

“Tell Yamato Tazuna-san is being targeted by Gato and I’m officially requesting backup.”

Pakkun grunts, gives a tiny salute with his paw and then jumps over the edge of the boat. Naruto and Sakura gasp but he doesn’t sink, he’s running across the water, back towards the mainland. _They’re coming back._ Sasuke fights down the nausea that rises in his stomach. He can feel Kakashi’s eye on him and then his sensei pats his head.

“Whoa! That dog is walkin’ on water!” Naruto leans out of the boat and it nearly tips, _again_ , before Sakura pulls him back with a growl.

“I told you to be quiet,” the ferryman mutters as the fog clears and a giant bridge rises up on their right.

“So you’ll finish the mission?”

“Yeah…” Kakashi sighs and stretches out his legs as far as he can. “Woulda been a whole lot easier if you told us this before. Then we wouldn’t have split the teams to start with.” Sasuke understands the underlying danger and he thinks Sakura does to. If enemies were targeting Tazuna, attacking now, before they could regroup would be the best decision. But he didn’t know how Team 13 was supposed to get to them, even if Pakkun relayed Kakashi’s message. There wasn’t another boat. Were they supposed to wait while the ferryman went back to the mainland to retrieve them?

Sasuke tries to ignore the sinking, dreadful feeling in his gut.

**Pakkun**

Pakkun knows he’s as good as kibble. Still, he races across the water as fast as he can. As soon as he makes it back to land, he picks up on the godling’s familiar scent and follows it into a copse of trees. At the very center in a tight clearing four clones of Team 13 sit around a map. A trap. He’s going to have to set it off, but he doesn’t even make it into the clearing.

“Message from—” Pakkun is cut off as talons sink into the scruff of his neck and lift him up. He squirms and gives an indignant yelp. The smell of ink is overwhelming.

“A ninken?” A black-masked child, not the godling or the one that reeks of ash and destruction, peers down from a tree branch.

“Pakkun, he’s one of Kakashi-senpai’s.” Another figure, the one that smells like a clone despite being whole, lands next to the inky one.

“Got a message,” Pakkun grumbles as the ink creature soars up higher and drops him on the branch. “Tazuna’s being targeted by a man named Gato and the boss is officially requesting backup.”

“And that old drunk couldn’t have said anything an hour ago?” The inky one mutters just as Pakkun smells the ripple of power and chakra. He stiffens when the godling and the ashy one drop next to their companions. 

“Pakkun!” The godling exclaims cheerfully, his tone completely at odds with the hostility pouring off of him in waves. He steps forward, past the not-clone and inky one and Pakkun knows kibble time has come. He’s on a _tree_ and the godling is stalking towards him, violet cloak fluttering around him. Pakkun can smell it when the tree wakes, its chakra reaching towards its master. He has seconds before the godling raises his hands to form a sign.

Pakkun has one chance.

He rushes forward and pushes chakra into his paws. He swings under the branch running upside-down, past the godling, the not-clone, and the inky one. Only to right himself and jump straight at the ashy one. The godling’s rage sours to fear as the ashy one instinctively raises his hands and catches him.

Pakkun wastes no time.

“I’m so sorry, boy! I needed to protect my boss, but I truly regret injuring you. Let’s bury the hatchet and I’ll let you touch my paws whenever you like, sound good?” Pakkun asks, raising one paw to show him. “See? They’re soft and supple, still pink.”

“Uhhh…” The ashy one’s confusion is so vast it momentarily overpowers the acrid ash that marks his scent. The godling reappears by his side in an instance. Pakkun is sweating from his paw-pads, they’re practically dripping as he keeps his eyes on the ashy one’s mask and tries for a smile.

“You mean that? You’re actually sorry?” The godling asks.

“Very sorry. _Very._ ”

“Madara?”

Behind them, Pakkun can smell the confusion emanating from the not-clone and inky one.

“It’s…fine. I guess I’m…sorry I injured your boss?” He doesn’t smell sorry, but Pakkun isn’t a pup, he knows better than to say that out loud. “But he really should learn to announce himself properly.”

“Absolutely, I agree completely.” Pakkun nods along. He loves the boss and would happily die for him as would any of the pack, but the boss sent him here and now this is _his_ problem, not Pakkun’s.

It’s terrifying how quickly the godling’s scent sweetens with joy until Pakkun nearly chokes on it.

Unlike the others, it’s hard to name a single specific base scent to him. He smells like spring and summer, sunshine and flora, life itself about to burst forward and bloom. Life itself that will creep up, endless and relentless until it spreads as wide and far as it can, unstoppable in its wake.

“Ooh! Ooh! Can I touch your paw?”

“Y-yes.” The ashy one swivels him to face the godling proper. He reaches out and pokes Pakkun’s raised paw. He squeezes each one of his toepads, laughing in delight. The godling’s touch is gentle and Pakkun slowly lets out a breath of relief. Not kibble. Always good to be not kibble.

“Madara, Madara, touch his paw. It’s so soft, it’s great!”

“This is…weird.” The ashy one mutters but shifts Pakkun until he’s holding him cradled in one arm, and now both of them are poking his pads, transfixed.

Even gods succumb to the power of the supple paw.

“Okay…” the not-clone and inky one snap out of their daze, “we’re going to talk about this later but for now…anything else Pakkun?” The not-clone asks.

“No.”

“Alright, we’ll head straight for Team 7 and shadow them.” The children snap to attention and the ashy one sets him back on the ground.

“We’re not changing?” The godling asks, picking at his cloak.

“After we catch up. If Gato has men on the island, they could be walking into a trap. Every second counts.” Pakkun smells the clones slump in the clearing below, the chakra leaking out of them. “Remember, numbers not names.”

The not-clone nods to him and they blur away just as Pakkun pops with a puff of smoke.

**Sasuke**

They slip under the bridge and emerge from a tunnel into bright, clear water. The pier that surrounds that island is less an isolated pier and more of a settlement that extends out onto the water itself. Naruto’s looking around, wide-eyed and awed at the crumbling shacks that circle around them. _Definitely a poor country._ The ferryman pulls them up to a seemingly random patch of boardwalk and they climb out.

“Are we gonna wait for the others, Kakashi-sensei?” Naruto asks, bouncing up and down.

“No, they’ll catch up. Hopefully before we’re ambushed…” Kakashi mutters the last part to himself. “Everyone be on guard. At the slightest sign, I want you in Manji formation. Your goal is to protect Tazuna-san. Leave any and all fighting to me, got it?” His eye meets each of theirs and Sasuke reluctantly nods when it lands on him. He has to prove himself, especially if Team 13 is coming back. It’s been months since their duel and he’s been training non-stop. Memories and ghosts aside, he’s not letting Madara show him up again.

“How’re they gonna find us if we don’t wait for them?” Naruto asks as they cross the boardwalk, back onto the island proper.

“Team 13 is a dual-purpose combat and tracking team. They’ll find us.” He doesn’t sound happy about it.

“Sensei…” Sakura starts after they drift into silence. They’ve left the initial pier completely behind, now on an old dirt road running through to the heart of the island. In the distance, Sasuke can make out the flash of water between the trees. Up ahead of them the tree line breaks, forming a small clearing next to the water. “When was Team 13 assigned? They’re our age but none of them were at the academy.”

That’s…a good point. Sasuke didn’t even _know_ about Madara until the dobe brought it up.

“Special assignment. Go ask the Sandaime about it.”

Sasuke snorts and rolls his eyes. Like they could just—

“Really? ‘Cause Jiji seemed really confused too that one time I saw him, Madara-sensei, and Hashirama together. You know…everyone seemed pretty confused and angry. Hashirama tried to kill me, neither knew what _Konoha_ was, and Jiji did say something about a space—” Kakashi slaps his hand over Naruto’s mouth, cutting him off.

“Ma, ma, Naruto. You need to learn when to hold your tongue and _stop talking_.”

Naruto struggles against him and breaks away with a huff, crossing his arms.

“I wanted to ask, sensei, because if I’m not mistaken Hashirama has the same kekkei genkai as the Shodai and all our textbooks said it was a lost—”

“There!” Naruto interrupts Sakura and throws a kunai into the bushes. “Manji formation!” Sasuke and Kakashi snap to attention as Sakura and Naruto move in front of Tazuna. But after a long, tense moment, Kakashi sighs and slumps over.

“Naruto! You idiot, there was nothing there! You’re going to give me a damn heart attack!” Sakura yells, swatting his head.

“There was, there was! I seriously felt someone targeting us!” Naruto yells back, still in formation, kunai held out in front of him.

“Yeah right! Cut it out!”

Kakashi turns and moves into the bushes where Naruto threw his kunai. _Idiot._ Sasuke thinks as he pulls them back to reveal a startled white rabbit.

“Naruto! Look at what you’ve done!” Sakura points at the rabbit and tries to drag him out of formation. Naruto falters, kunai dropping as he sees the rabbit before it stubbornly raises again.

“I know what I felt! Madara-sensei said you have to trust your gut! The bunny could be an enemy!” He argues, sticking close to Tazuna as the man grumbles and walks over to Kakashi. _An enemy bunny?_ Sasuke rolls his eyes and Sakura pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Really Naruto? You think Gato would hire a _bunny_?”

“I dunno! It could…it could be a disguise! A trick! A substitution—” Sasuke is the only one close enough to see Kakashi’s eye widen.

“Everyone, get down!” Kakashi yells as a giant sword swings into the clearing, aiming for Tazuna before Naruto knocks him to the ground and the sword flies up and embeds itself in a tree.

“See! I told you!” Naruto yells as a figure lands on the sword handle. He’s shirtless with weird cow-print warmers wrapped around his arms and legs, bandages tied over his mouth and a slashed Kiri headband on the side of his head.

“So you’re the ones who killed the Demon Brothers.” There’s rage in his voice, burning in his brown eyes.

“And you’re Momochi Zabuza,” Kakashi says casually, hands in his pockets. He steps in front of them. Sasuke scowls but joins the other two in Manji formation in front of Tazuna. _He mentioned Zabuza before. Is he strong?_

“To be recognized by one of Konoha’s greatest, Kakashi of the sharingan,” Zabuza says, squatting down on the handle.

_Kakashi of the…sharingan?_

“Sharingan? What’s he talkin’ about Kakashi-sensei? Are you an Uchiha too?” Naruto’s voice sounds distant. Sasuke’s frozen as Kakashi lifts up his headband, revealing not a blind eye or empty socket but a red sharingan.

With a perfectly straight line through the eyelid.

_Eye-thief._

He thought…he thought Kakashi _understood_ but…

Sasuke’s going to be sick. He feels disoriented, out of breath and the fight hasn’t even started. Zabuza moves and Sakura and Naruto are saying something but it’s all a long-drawn out static sound. Their mouths are moving but he can’t hear. He can’t focus.

Kakashi is an eye-thief.

Madara is a descendant of the Ghost.

Itachi is a kin-killer.

And Sasuke…he’s helpless against them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember the better and worse part of the terrors intervening in things? I rewatched all of Part 1 to try and prep for this fic, but I'm still confused on whether the Demon Brothers were actually part of Zabuza's group but I'm going to go with yes. Guess who's pissed that his subordinates were killed??
> 
> I've realized and accepted I have an inescapable desire to build complex cultures from the crumbs canon gave us...and on that note the Uchiha have several holidays but the ones directly tied to Amaterasu are the summer and winter solstices and the rebirth on the 24th. There are some families who try, key emphasis on *try*, to time pregnancies to have a child on an auspicious day but that's usually done with the summer solstice, when the day is the longest/Amaterasu is at her strongest. Timing pregnancies for the rebirth is rarer bc if the child comes early and is born on the winter solstice or the two days after...it's considered incredibly unlucky/setting the child up for failure. Madara's birth wasn't purposefully timed and both Kou and Tajima were sweating bullets when she started early contractions on the 22nd. For better or worse, Madara was a difficult child and wasn't born until nearly 48 hours later.
> 
> The next chapter will be posted on Thursday, January 7th. 
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://mira--mira.tumblr.com/) for more content!
> 
> Thank you for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! It means a lot to me! <3


	4. Land of Waves: III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is just a bit shorter than usual, but it covers the entire fight. Since we're still in the beginning of part 1 and canon hasn't completely diverged, I tried to keep a lot of the original parts of the fight, especially at the start. It was very weird trying to closely transcribe from video to text so I hope it reads/is paced alright! I'm expecting other fights to hit similar beats as their canon counterparts but overall be pretty different.
> 
> And with that said...
> 
> RIP Zabuza
> 
> Enjoy!~

**Naruto**

Sasuke is freaking out.

He’s been acting…weird this entire mission. At first, Naruto thought it was because of the first day: the chunin ambush, the deaths, realizing how useless they were like he did, but now he’s not so sure. If that was the case, he and Sakura bounced back but Sasuke remained stuck. Naruto would gloat any other time.

But now they were supposed to be guarding the old cranky bridge builder against this Zabuza guy that even Kakashi seems wary of. This was the _worst_ time to be freaking out.

“Sasuke,” Naruto hisses as Zabuza stands on the water and heavy mist starts to rise around them. Then the Zabuza guy _vanishes._ Only to be replaced by his bloodlust. Thick and intense, it’s nothing like Mizuki-sensei’s was. This feels like a physical weight, locking around their necks and pulling them down. A predator starting to circle their prey. A real ninja. A _jonin_.

Naruto gulps and tries to steady his hand. A bead of sweat drips down his cheek. He watches as Sasuke changes the grip on his kunai until it’s pointed inward, at himself. He’s shaking, _really_ shaking, his eyes cloudy and blank.

_What’s he—_

“Sasuke, don’t worry. I’ll protect you guys with my life.” Kakashi smiles back at them, the quirk of his mouth barely visible under his mask and swelling mist. If anything it seems to twist Sasuke up more.

But Naruto doesn’t have time to think about him.

Zabuza reappears in the middle of their formation.

It’s instantaneous.

Naruto couldn’t even see him _move._

But he feels the warm arm and the blunt edge of Zabuza’s sword pressing against his back.

“Too late.”

Naruto’s stomach drops and icy fear sinks into his chest.

_They’re going…they’re going to die—_

Kakashi darts forward, pushing them to the ground. He’s rough in his desperation to close the distance before Zabuza can swing his terrifyingly large sword. Naruto falls hard to the dirt, gasping for breath, as Kakashi buries a kunai in Zabuza’s gut. Water gushes out instead of blood.

 _Water?_ The body pops, a clone. _It’s not the real one, so where—_

Another Zabuza is standing behind Kakashi.

“Sensei! Behind you!”

The sword slashes down, cutting into Kakashi. He pops, water too.

Only to reappear, standing behind Zabuza. Kakashi presses a kunai to his throat. “It’s over.”

 _H-how’d he do that?_ Naruto pushes himself to his feet. A wave of relief so great it nearly sends him back to his knees crashes over him. Kakashi did it!

“Sensei, you’re awesome!” He can see Sakura and the old man standing up too. Sasuke still looks dazed, but he’s not about to gut himself anymore.

“’It’s over’, don’t make me laugh. I expected more from you.” Zabuza twists, the kunai bites into his neck before his body bursts into water.

_A clone? Another clone? How many does he have?!_

“Sensei!” Sakura yells as another Zabuza appears, bringing his sword down. Kakashi ducks, dropping below the blade until he’s almost flat on the ground. _The real one. That has to be the real Kakashi._ But is it the real Zabuza?

Zabuza does…something, he’s moving too fast and in bursts for Naruto to properly see, and flips around, his foot catching Kakashi in the chest and sending him through the mist, crashing into the water with a splash. _He’s strong enough to send Kakashi flying through the air like an empty can._ Naruto shudders and tries to get his legs to work so he can skitter back into Manji formation. Kakashi surfaces immediately but there’s something…weird about the way he’s moving. Naruto has to squint to make him out, but it looks like he’s struggling to stay afloat.

Zabuza laughs and jumps into the water after him, balancing unnaturally on its surface. Naruto is too far away to hear what he says, but when Kakashi is incased in a floating water bubble he knows it’s bad. Real bad. Especially when Zabuza turns towards them and a clone rises out of the water.

Kakashi’s trapped.

There’s nothing between the clone and them.

Naruto gulps and brings up his kunai. He can see Sakura mirroring his position but Sasuke lags behind them. Tazuna is frozen in place. As the clone stalks through the mist, lugging its menacing sword, bloodlust washing over them in dark pulsating waves, he’s struck with a childish wish. He wants Iruka-sensei. Iruka-sensei would make this better. Naruto’s not sure how, Zabuza seems too strong, but Iruka-sensei would know what to do.

“You’re wearing hitai-ate like you’re real ninja. But a ninja is somebody who’s been in countless life or death situations, has faced the reaper time and time again. Looking at you three, I don’t think you killed the Demon Brothers. You’re nothing but little upstarts, you don’t _deserve_ such a title.”

_Naruto…Hashirama and I…we didn’t grow up in the village. We lived in a place so different, so far away it was like…like a different world. We reacted like we did because it wasn’t the first time we’ve been ambushed. Those weren’t our first kills._

Zabuza blurs, there one moment, gone the next. Naruto doesn’t see him stop but he feels the kick that collides with his chest and snaps him backward past his team and Tazuna.

He skids to a stop, arms shaking as he pushes himself to his knees. Pain radiates from his stomach, sharp and stabbing. Naruto coughs and struggles to breathe, unsure if he’s going to throw up. He’s in one piece but he knows the hitai-ate came off.

Iruka-sensei’s hitai-ate.

His hitai-ate.

He can feel the heavy, damp air touch his previously dry skin.

“Naruto!” Sakura yells as Naruto looks up and sees Zabuza standing on his hitai-ate.

“You’re just brats.” He grinds it into the dirt.

“Take Tazuna-san and run! This isn’t a fight you can win!” Kakashi yells from his prison.

_It’s alright that you didn’t react as fast. You’re still a little kid, still learning, still growing. There’s no war now, you have time. This…this is your time._

This is his time.

 _Yeah, well…well I’m gonna get so strong and_ _powerful I’ll be able to put an end to any war and protect all my precious people!_

He’s going to prove himself. To all his precious people! Be better than Sasuke and be recognized as the greatest Hokage!

This is the first step!

Naruto pushes himself to his feet and runs at Zabuza with a yell.

He knows it’s going to hurt. He’s fully prepared for pain. It’s still terrifying how quickly Zabuza moves, his knee slamming into Naruto’s face and flinging him back until he lands at the feet of his team.

“What were you thinking?! Going off on your own? We’re genin, we’re no match for him!” Sakura admonishes, crouching down to help pull him up. Naruto stumbles to his feet, body swaying, but proud when he holds up his hitai-ate and ties it on.

“I have a plan,” Naruto swipes away the blood leaking from his broken nose. He’s not backing down. He’s come too far. Iruka-sensei, Kakashi, and Madara have all helped him get to this point. He’s not going to let them down.

_Clone jutsus are meant to distract and overwhelm your opponent. That’s what Hashirama uses his for, well that and better coordination with the mokuton. With shadow clones, if you coordinate the clones right you’ll be able to fight stronger opponents. The clones will give the real you an opening. Remember, it’s all about building to the final step. You’re looking for the one blow that’ll end the dance._

“I have a plan to take him down but I’m gonna need your guys’ help,” Naruto looks at Sakura and then Sasuke. Sakura’s eyes widen in surprise before turning hard and flinty with determination. Sasuke nods, but Naruto can’t help but still feel that he’s off his game.

“I’m sick and tired of you brats. Your sensei killed some of my underlings, it’s only fair that I pay him back the favor.” The real Zabuza raises his hand and two more water clones rise from the water, joining the first.

Naruto’s stomach drops.

 _It’ll still work, the plan’ll still work._ But what if one of the clones slips around him and gets to old man Tazuna…

Naruto swallows and can’t bring himself to check the others’ expressions.

The three Zabuza clones hoist their blades up onto their shoulders.

They could barely handle one…how were they supposed to deal with three…

_This isn’t the end, it can’t be!_

And, as if summoned by his thoughts, kunai shoot out of the mist at the water clones. Two manage to dodge in time but the third doesn’t and gets popped.

“W-wha—”

Four violet-cloaked figures land in front of them.

They’re all… _kids._

“You two are so slow, what was that?” The first one throws up his hands. Naruto can’t see his face; it’s covered with a black mask with only holes for eyes and a white ‘1’ stamped on the forehead.

“Yeah, Three, what was that?” The tallest one, who Naruto assumes is Two, turns to face the shortest one. He can’t see Two’s mask, the scroll on his back, sorta similar to Hashirama’s, blocks his vision.

“Don’t pin this on me, you missed too!”

“Yeah, well _I’m_ not a kunai specialist yet I’m still getting blamed.”

“Momochi Zabuza?” The fourth one, almost as tall as Two, takes out a small black book. “Can you confirm you are indeed Momochi Zabuza, Demon of the Mist, rogue nin of Kirigakure?” He asks, ignoring his squabbling teammates. 

“What of it? I’m a bit _busy_ right now, but if you four are going to get in my way…” One of the clones hurls its sword at them.

“Duck!” Sakura yells, Team 7 and Tazuna flatten themselves on the ground.

The strangers don’t.

One throws a kunai, Naruto can hear the clash of metal and sees the sword wobble from between their legs. Two darts forward and snatches it from the air, swinging it around one-handed with ease.

_He can…he can lift it?_

Two looks only a little taller than Sasuke. The sword is almost twice his height.

“Ooh! This is a pretty cool sword, right One?” He waves it around, masked face turning back to look at One.

“Yeah, but you’re too short. It’d be unwieldy in combat.”

“No it won’t,” Two swings it again but overextends and stumbles, almost dropping it. “Okay, but it _looks_ cool. We could keep it in our tiny house! Hey Four, when we’re done can I keep the original?” He asks, turning towards Four as he snaps the sword in hand. It melts into water.

“We’ll talk about it after.”

“Come _on_ , Three got to keep the scrolls from that one guy.”

“Yeah because they were _scrolls_ not one of the most identifiable weapons in the world, idiot,” Three mocks. Two wheels around to face One, his violet cloak flaring up. He’s wearing pure black underneath, nothing identifiable or unique on him except for a pouch on his right hip and the quick flash of a sword hilt on the left.

One sighs, his shoulders slumping. “Three stop being mean to Two.”

“Make me.”

“You think I won’t—”

“Boys,” Four interrupts with a sigh. “We’re on a mission.”

“Sorry Four.” One bows while Two and Three grumble and mutter apologies under their breaths.

“More brats. At least you four aren’t wearing hitai-ate and proclaiming yourselves to be ninja. But if you want to get in-between me and that old man,” the clone missing his sword jabs his finger at Tazuna, “I’ll cut you down too.”

“You were going to kill them? They’re _kids_.” One’s voice, already muffled by the mask, turns cold. Naruto thinks these guys are, _maybe,_ on their side. At the very least, they don’t seem to wanna kill Tazuna or Team 7 right now. He’s not sure what four more kids can do but at least they outnumber Zabuza.

“And? Nothing I haven’t done before.”

The mood shifts.

One starts to seethe and Two stands up straight, fists clenched by his sides. Chakra washes over them and Naruto shudders. It’s not the same as Zabuza’s bloodlust, or maybe it is and it just feels different because it’s not directed at them. But suddenly he feels very, very small. He doesn’t like it.

Four sighs and snaps his black book shut.

“Three and I will take the clones. One, Two…kill him.”

**Kakashi**

Kakashi knew as soon as he got trapped in the water prison jutsu things had gone to shit. Facing a jonin opponent with three genin and a civilian…especially one as infamous as Momochi Zabuza who nearly succeeded in his coup and killing the Fourth Mizukage…

It was a longshot that they’d be able to get far enough away that his water clones wouldn’t be able to follow but it was better than staying and dying. They had to survive. Kakashi couldn’t fail them like he failed Obito and Rin. He spares a brief, agonizing moment that he left Team 13 on the shore. He knew this wasn’t a mission for Team 7 when the chunin attacked. They didn’t have the combat ability or experience necessary to face off against chunin let alone a _jonin._ But being paired with Team 13…

His genin deserved to grow on their own, without impossible standards to compare themselves to. Sasuke is a prodigious genin. Madara and Hashirama aren’t genin. They aren’t even close. It’d only hurt Sakura and Sasuke’s confidence to compare themselves. They’d always be found lacking.

Kakashi originally thought the same for Naruto, but the boy seems to have side-stepped the issue neatly by viewing Madara as a teacher, not a peer.

But now that desire, for them to have the opportunity to prove themselves by themselves, might lead to their deaths instead.

Because of him…

It’s his fault…

And then the kunai fly and four child-sized figures appear in violet cloaks and black masks.

 _A transformation jutsu?_ Kakashi thinks, staring at the fourth ‘child’. He has to be Tenzo. None of them are wearing gloves, One and Three are too pale and Two too dark. Four is also the only one not squabbling like an actual child in front of the rogue nin they’ve been sent to kill.

 _Terrors. All of them are terrors._ But for the first time since Tazuna told them he was being targeted by Gato and Zabuza appeared, Kakashi feels nothing but relief. He sighs, a weight off his shoulders and leans back on his heels.

“Why are you suddenly so relaxed?” The real Zabuza glares.

“You’re going to die,” Kakashi says with a shrug.

“You really think four more brats are gonna make the difference?”

The clone must say something to them because through the mist, he can see Madara’s shoulders draw up tight around his head and Hashirama’s hands clench into fists. Sai appears mostly unchanged, hand on a concealed blade. Tenzo snaps the bingo book shut.

“Eh, maybe not. But two terrors?” Kakashi smiles under his mask.

The water ripples.

It’s the only warning Zabuza gets to bring his free arm up to protect his neck before Madara’s katana cuts into flesh. Blood sprays, staining his mask and cloak as gravity pulls him down. With a sharp jerk, he wrenches Zabuza’s arm away from his body, throwing off his weight and effectively pinning him in place.

Just in time for Hashirama to jump in, katana swinging at his chest. Zabuza can’t dodge, he has no choice but to pull his hand from the water prison to protect himself. Maybe it’s the angle, or maybe it’s the terrifying physical strength Hashirama wields so casually, but his blade connects and Zabuza’s arm bends until Kakashi can hear a snap and it falls limply to his side.

Zabuza snarls and yanks his arm free from Madara’s blade, reaching back to draw Kubikiribōchō.

Kakashi hesitates, looking from the terrors back to Team 7. Sai and Tenzo have already dispatched the two remaining clones. His team and Tazuna are staring at them, wide-eyed and terrified, in Manji formation.

_They don’t recognize them. At least…not all of them._

Sakura is tense but less so than the boys. With his sharingan and the now-abating mist, Kakashi can see how her eyes flick between Sai and the two original terrors. She recognizes them, but Tenzo still confuses her. 

Kakashi winces. He’s going to have to talk to her, as soon as possible. Their identities were considered an S-class secret, Tenzo had told him only after Kakashi had badgered him into it. If she said something…

Hashirama rips his blade free. “Go back to your genin, Hatake. This is our fight.”

_Your slaughter._

Zabuza was a highly skilled and dangerous opponent, but they’d already disabled one arm and weakened the second. There was no way he was coming out alive.

Ultimately, it ends before Kakashi can move.

“You little brats!” Zabuza snarls and swings his sword, but he’s slow and weak with his bloody injured arm. Madara darts back as Hashirama steps forward to absorb the blow.

Their blades meet, metal screeching against metal.

Hashirama is only pushed back inches on the water’s surface but his blade shatters, leaving a jagged broken edge in place.

Zabuza’s not so lucky. He’s thrown back by the force until he lands at the edge of the water, completely open and reeling from the shock. He barely manages to keep his balance on the surface.

Madara dashes forward, a blur with his blade raised. Just as the tip connects, senbon bury themselves in Zabuza’s neck. He drops like a stone, legs in the water, chest splayed out on land. Madara goes flying over, leaving only a thin cut on his chest.

Kakashi and the two terrors turn to see a Kiri hunter nin standing above them in a tree, the last of the mist curling around its trunk.

“Two.” Madara doesn’t lower his blade. He stalks towards Zabuza’s downed body, Hashirama at his back, mask raised towards the hunter nin above them.

Before he can cut off Zabuza’s head the hunter nin jumps down next to them, darting back out of the range of Hashirama’s broken blade.

“I thank you for your assistance, but his body belongs to Kirigakure. It is my job to dispose of it completely and fully, any other interference beyond this point will be regarded as an aggressive act against the village.” A long needle presses into the hunter’s hand.

“Immediate beheading is typical policy,” Madara growls. Neither he nor Hashirama have lowered their weapons.

“I will deal with his corpse in the manner I’ve been instructed to. You may confirm his death if you wish, but any other action against his body will be considered—”

“Interference and an aggressive act against the village, yeah I got it. Two?”

 _This is going to end poorly_. Kakashi can see the faint glow of medical chakra wrapping around Hashirama’s hands. The extent of the Shodai’s healing was never fully disclosed. The casual civilian may not even know that he _was_ a medic beyond his own legendary ability to heal without forming seals.

Even Rin, who studied the Shodai’s mokuton scrolls, hoping for any hidden medical secrets that weren’t widely known hadn’t found much. Tsunade had pioneered the modern medical ninjutsu movement, but in her studies Rin had found mention of a few especially grisly techniques wielded by the greatest medical specialists of the past eras.

If the terrors were forbidden from beheading Zabuza’s corpse they’d still…

Tenzo appears behind them before Hashirama can touch the dead man’s neck.

The hunter nin tenses and raises his hand, ready to throw the senbon.

“As I’ve already told your associates, I will allow them to confirm Momochi’s death but any action against his body will be considered active tampering with the goal to steal Kirigakure’s secrets. A very heavy slight,” the hunter’s mask turns towards Kakashi and then the rest of his team.

“We are unaffiliated with Konohagakure,” Tenzo’s voice is monotone, uncomfortably familiar to what he sounded like as Kinoe.

“Perhaps.” Mask meets mask and Kakashi can feel the coiling tension from where he stands. His team is still in Manji formation around Tazuna, staring at Sai with distrust. It’s the only reason they’re not barging across the clearing and interfering in the standoff. Kakashi can see Naruto’s clenched jaw, his eyes flicking from the hunter nin to the masked Team 13 and back.

_Madara and Hashirama weren’t problems, but anonymous masked nin will be._

“One, Two stand down,” Tenzo waves his hand and after a long moment, Madara and Hashirama lower their blades. Tenzo takes Hashirama’s place, kneeling next to the body to check Zabuza’s pulse.

“He’s dead.” He stands and steps backward, forcing the terrors back with him.

The hunter nin relaxes and gives a sweeping bow to the trio before picking the corpse up and disappearing with a shunshin .

“I still wanted his sword,” Hashirama breaks the tense silence. Madara whacks the back of his head and one of the longer pieces of his bangs falls in front of the mask. Tenzo sighs and lets loose one sharp whistle.

Team 13 retreats into the trees, gone in seconds.

Kakashi makes his way back to his team. The mist has completely burned away, the clearing bright and sunny like it was moments before Zabuza appeared.

“Relax, they’re gone,” he keeps his voice gentle. 

“Those kids…those kids managed to kill _Zabuza._ The ones with swords did it in _seconds_ before the needles guy finished him off. I barely got my hitai-ate back…” Naruto angrily swipes at his eyes, careful of his bleeding, swollen nose. Kakashi can see the starting discoloration of two black eyes and absently wonders if they’ll fully form before the kyuubi’s chakra heals him. “Zabuza got taken down by kids just like me…why couldn’t I do anything? I’ve been practicing every day, training with you and Madara-sensei and still I…I…” tears slip down his cheeks, his entire body shaking with frustration.

“Naruto…you do realize those masked kids were—”

“In this world,” Kakashi interrupts before Sakura can finish, “there are kids who are younger than you yet stronger than me.” He reaches out and ruffles Naruto’s hair. “We all have our own paths of growth.”

He needs to nip this in the bud now. The frustration and comparison to the hunter nin might be reasonable, but not to the terrors. Naruto was no god, he shouldn’t be made to feel ashamed of that.

And thinking of power complexes…Kakashi turns to meet Sasuke’s eyes. Angry, betrayed eyes staring directly at Obito’s sharingan.

 _At least he hasn’t tried to kill me yet._ Give him a few hours and he was sure to try whenever Kakashi went to sleep.

“‘Blessed are the eyes of Indra, a gift from the Sun Herself. Blessed are the eyes freely given while the heart still beats. Blessed is the left eye of Uchiha Obito. Blessed is the left eye of Hatake Kakashi.’” Kakashi repeats, hoping that the Uchiha taught him the tradition before they were massacred. Sasuke’s eyes widen and Kakashi can see the glimmer of hope, brief and desperate, before it’s forcefully dimmed. He’s still guarded, staring at Kakashi with mistrust and thinly veiled suspicion.

“Come on, our mission isn’t finished yet. We still have to get Tazuna-san home.” Kakashi pulls his headband back over his eye barely manages to catch himself before he stumbles. Even after all these years, it’s still a pain. Kakashi was one of the luckier transplants. The eye was useable, although largely disagreeable. The few records Rin could find of non-Uchiha actively using a transplanted sharingan tended to end…poorly. Either the chakra drain was too much or they just went stark raving mad.

“I can’t believe the others missed this; you think the ferry guy has even gotten them yet?” Naruto mutters as they start back towards the road.

Sakura opens her mouth but hesitates before speaking. She glances at him. Kakashi shakes his head and she closes her mouth.

“They’ll probably meet us at Tazuna-san’s.”

**Madara**

Team 13 regroups in a large tree, staggered among its branches. Frustration bubbles beneath Madara’s skin, but before he can open his mouth to speak, Sai beats him to it.

“You broke _another_ one? How many is that now?” He asks, pointing down at the broken blade in Hashirama’s hand. He can’t slip it back into the sheathe, the blade is too short. It’d just fall back out.

“This month or total?”

“…total.”

“Twenty-eight,” Hashirama answers as he crouches down and pulls the battle scroll from his back. He unfurls it enough to seal the broken katana and pull out a spare. He’s shattered three this month alone leading to Madara having to rewrite a significant portion of their budget around buying spare katanas. Honestly, he should have just started buying them in bulk months ago.

Madara listens to them bicker back and forth but doesn’t feel like joining.

“We should have beheaded Zabuza,” he mutters, gnawing at his lip. Hashirama hears him and cuts himself off mid-sentence, before turning towards Yamato-sensei, who’s on a branch slightly below them.

“You should have least let me feel for his pulse, Yamato-sensei. I could have burst his heart and the Kiri nin wouldn’t have known.”

“Maybe not at the time, but he definitely would have noticed when he cut Zabuza’s chest open,” Yamato-sensei admonishes. “Letting him take the corpse was the best option. If we had protested too much, Konoha could be blamed. Even if we aren’t wearing symbols, the villages fight for any opportunity to use against one another. Our mere proximity would be enough if Kirigakure really wanted to make a fuss.”

 _That’s so stupid._ After traveling to other lands and villages, Madara has decided he hates world politics as much as he hates clan ones. It’s nothing but stupid adults bickering over stupid things.

“But we don’t have his head or heart. He could still be alive.” Madara points out. It was a rather novel concept that a shinobi could survive either but after Suna and seeing _human puppets,_ lacking a pulse wasn’t good enough. Until they held head or heart in hand or Madara burned the body to dust, they had to be suspicious. Anything else was bound to backfire on them.

“That’s true but the hunter nin has him. He’d kill Zabuza.”

“Not if Zabuza kills him first,” Sai says, pulling out a scroll. He draws a quick ink bird and sends it off to scout and find Team 7.

Unlikely with how injured he was but still a possibility. _Everything_ is still a possibility right now, nothing is clear cut, because they hadn’t finished their mission. It rankles him. Unfinished and incomplete were too close to failure and defeat. Hashirama presses closer to him, hand wrapping around his.

“What we know right now is there’s a connection between Zabuza and Gato. We know Gato is targeting Tazuna, it’s no coincidence Zabuza happened to be on the same island targeting the same man.” All three of them nod along to Yamato-sensei. Coincidences don’t exist. Not for shinobi. “Tazuna is the key. If Zabuza survived it’s likely he’ll target Tazuna again. If he didn’t, Gato will send more men and we can extract information from them. Either way, as long as we stay close to Tazuna we’ll find out more.”

And since Kakashi officially requested their help, for all intents and purposes guarding Tazuna was now Team 13’s official mission too. There was still a chance if Zabuza survived and attacked, more hunter nin would come after him. But if they could just keep the hunters off long enough to kill him…

“So we’re guarding Tazuna until he finishes his bridge?” Sai asks. Madara can practically see his impish smile, even with the mask on. Another week or two of being around Team 7. Another week of getting in between Naruto and Sai. He can feel an oncoming headache.

“Yes. Remember, we just arrived. We don’t know about Zabuza or any masked figures,” Yamato-sensei says and pops off his mask. His transformation jutsu releases and he grows back to his adult size. “And please, Sai, don’t terrorize Naruto.” Sai makes no promises, merely snickers and Madara knows this is going to be a long week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aklfjsdl Zabuza got out, but just barely! Poor Haku, he's *not* having a good day, can't wait to see how that near-miss/terrifying display affects him in a couple of chapters...
> 
> I also never understood the idea that Kakashi knew Zabuza lived bc Haku didn't immediately start dealing with his body right there. If the goal is to prevent people from stealing the village's secrets...potentially exposing secrets right in front of strangers is...a bad idea? It'd make more sense to grab the body, get out, *then* destroy it??? At most I can see the head should immediately be removed bc that should actually kill a majority of people, but even then it might be better to wait. The senbon thing doesn't stand up that well either IMO but the 'moving the body' has always bothered me to no end.
> 
> Also, I'm getting back up on my soapbox to declare that medical ninjutsu does *not* get the credit/recognition it deserves. In Kabuto and Tsunade's fight, she straight up messed with the electrical currents in his brain and rewired them. IMO she could have *easily* cut the blood/oxygen supply to his brain and straight dropped him, or went a step further with the electrical currents and simulated a stroke if Naruto wasn't a shonen manga...medical ninjutsu is OP as hell and it is snubbed in canon. With how intertwined organs and the chakra network canonically are...you give an elite medical ninja direct physical contact for longer than 15 seconds...if they want you dead, you're dead.
> 
> The next chapter will be posted on Thursday, January 14th. 
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://mira--mira.tumblr.com/) for more content!
> 
> Thank you for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! It means a lot to me! <3  
> 


	5. Land of Waves: IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some chapter highlights: Naruto discovers the age-old Uchiha tradition of pyromania. Madara is idealistic and hopeful, but still Madara. And I, as an author, really should consider adding a "bath/bathing" tag to this fic istg. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**Madara**

After they’ve changed out of their cloaks and masks, sealing each in each in small pinky-sized scrolls, they head after Team 7 and Tazuna. It’s easy to follow Sai’s ink bird, which leads them to the outskirts of Tazuna’s village.

The village is small and decrepit. The buildings are worn, the once bright paint faded and washed out while everything slowly crumbles under its own weight. They don’t go through the village center, but even here on the periphery Madara can see the desperation that hangs like heavy smoke over the land. The few people they see are wearing torn, ill-fitting clothes. They don’t get close enough for him to confirm but Madara knows deep in his guts if he looked into their faces he’d see hollowed, hungry eyes. _This_ village is the most familiar thing he’s seen in months.

They find Tazuna’s house with no problem as dusk creeps over the land. It’s on the very outskirts of the village, next to the ocean. A small yard connects to a dock and boardwalk surrounds it. The house itself is large, standing on stilts above the water proper. A glum Naruto and Sakura greet them at the door. Hashirama drags Naruto aside to heal him as both genin explain the fight with Zabuza, the masked kids, and the hunter nin in detached tones. Madara is so focused on Naruto, worrying because this was the second encounter where he became unusually depressed, that he misses Sakura’s solemn, knowing eyes.

After, Yamato-sensei herds them upstairs to put their bags down and wash up before dinner. He doesn’t join them, instead choosing to stay upstairs to brief Kakashi. Sakura said he was complaining of a headache and immediately laid down when they arrived. When they enter the dining room, Sasuke immediately ducks out, leaving Team 13 alone with Naruto, Sakura, and Tazuna for dinner. Tsunami, Tazuna’s daughter, brings out the dishes and they start to eat.

Tazuna’s house is one of the nicer ones, made of simple but sturdy wood. He is rich compared to his neighbors with a pantry full of food. Still, Madara forces himself to stop eating after two small bowls and a quarter of Hashirama’s. This isn’t the Uchiha compound, but he can’t help but see the creep of famine every time he closes his eyes.

“Hey, Madara-sensei,” Naruto starts, stabbing mindlessly at the food in his bowl with his chopsticks, “you ever feel like you’re absolutely worthless no matter how hard you try and there’ll always be someone better and stronger than you?”

The already quiet table plunges into absolute silence.

“Naruto…” Sakura breaks the silence first, side-eyeing him with concern. Madara can see Sai open his mouth and wastes no time kicking him in the shin before he can say something he shouldn’t.

_Gods why couldn’t Naruto ask Hashirama instead?_

Hashirama is good at comforting people and inspiring them. Madara…is not.

But he managed it once before on this mission…maybe he can do it again?

Madara clears his throat and feels a bit better when Hashirama tugs gently on their hooked ankles under the table.

“Yes.”

He raises his chopsticks to his mouth and it’s only when Naruto looks up at him, that he belatedly realizes he needs to _explain._

“You’re a kid. And no matter how strong and powerful you are, you’re still just a kid. The world isn’t fair and there are clans and wars so much older and stronger than you. It feels like they’ll suffocate and smother you before you can even change a single thing about them,” Madara says, the words tumbling and tripping quickly over his tongue.

Naruto looks morose.

Hashirama tugs sharply on his ankle.

“So that’s why you can’t give up! You’re still a kid, you can grow and become stronger. And if you become strong enough the world will have no choice but to bend to your power.” That’s how Konoha was made, Madara’s sure of it. He and Hashirama rose together, gaining power until they could forcefully stop the cruelties and injustices of their endless war. Then the Senju and the Uchiha would see each other’s guts and be able to understand each other just like they did. There’d be _peace_. “That’s why you have to keep training, to gain more power. You might be comparatively weak right now but if you stick with it, others will give up! They’ll rest on their laurels and then you’ll surpass them! It’s all about the time and effort you put into it, your unwavering determination and unwillingness to concede, overcoming any obstacle and refusing to give up!” Madara yells, caught up in his own fervor. 

“You really think so?!” Naruto slams his hands against the table, leaning across it. His blue eyes are shining and Madara feels unspeakably smug that he’s managed a rousing speech.

“Of course I do, I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t!”

Power was something that was cultivated.

Some may be born with more chakra or better control but it was experience that made for a truly deadly opponent. Madara was put on the front at four, but it wasn’t until he was five that he had his first kill. It wasn’t until years ticked by and he threw himself headfirst into the fray that he seized real power and could kill enemy adults who stood in his way. All of the cousins he failed to save could have been powerful, could have reached his level with enough time.

Time that was taken from them. Lives that were cut too short. His failures.

Madara had every advantage. He was a true sun-blessed prodigy. First-born of the Red-Eyed Witch. Heir of the Uchiha. But those advantages were only useful if he could use them to protect the clan. Otherwise, why bother? Power for power’s sake was meaningless. What good would it do if there wasn’t someone to protect? Wasn’t some greater thing to strive for?

“Yeah! Come on Madara-sensei, let’s go train! I’m gonna work so hard, I’ll blow you away and leave everyone in the dust!” Naruto jumps up onto the table and only gets down when Tazuna starts to yell at him.

“You know it’s dark out, right?” Sakura asks, pointing one chopstick at the window. The stars aren’t as blurry here as they are in Konoha, but the moon is only a sliver in the sky barely illuminating anything.

“O-oh…”

“It’s fine.” Madara pushes chakra into his palm and his entire hand catches fire.

“WOAH! You didn’t even make any hand signs!” Naruto reaches across the table and tries to shove his fingers into the flames.

“Don’t stick your hand in fire!” Madara swats Naruto’s fingers away before he can burn himself.

“But you’re doing it,” he leans back with a pout.

“Because I’m sun-blessed. _You_ are not,” Madara scolds. It…took him a while to realize that not everyone had his and Mother’s immunity to fire. To be exact, it wasn’t until he nearly lit a newborn Reo’s head on fire when he was three. Mother barely snatched him up in time. “Now, are we training or not?”

Naruto shoots out of his chair and starts stomping towards the door.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah! Let’s go!”

Madara turns towards Hashirama, who smiles brightly.

“Go on, I’m staying here.”

Instantly, Madara is suspicious. Hashirama has a sly look about him and keeps shooting glances towards the stairs. The bedrooms are up there. _Kakashi_ is up there.

“Don’t do whatever it is you’re thinking of doing. We’re on a mission,” Madara hisses.

“Are you suggesting I’d be anything less than absolutely perfect and polite?” Hashirama bats his eyes, the picture of innocence. “And technically we’re _assisting_ Team 7’s mission.”

“Hashirama.”

“Come _on,_ Madara-sensei!” Naruto yells impatiently from the door. He doesn’t have time to deal with both of them.

“Sai, don’t let him do anything stupid,” Madara grumbles and unhooks his ankle from Hashirama’s so he can stand.

“Too late, his very existence is stupid,” Sai smirks. Hashirama slumps forward with a pout, cheek thumping onto the table. Well…Madara tried. He doesn’t know Sakura well enough to get her involved. Knowing Hashirama, she’d become an unwitting accomplice to whatever hair-brained scheme he has planned. Kakashi is a jonin, surely he can handle this on his own.

**Hashirama**

Hashirama remains slumped over on the table until he hears everyone but Sai get up and leave.

“Whatever you’re planning on doing, I want in,” Sai says as they listen to the footsteps recede. He can hear Sakura and Tazuna’s muffled voices from the sitting room before the house quiets down, silent except for Tsunami washing dishes in the kitchen and an occasional creak of the floorboards.

“You don’t even know what I’m planning or against who,” Hashirama says as he straightens and stretches his arms over his head. He doesn’t bother trying to convince Sai otherwise. They may not be blood-related, but he has the same uncanny ability as Madara to see through Hashirama’s bluffs. Though in Sai’s case it’s because he’s suspicious of absolutely anything and everything.

“It’s either Sasuke or Kakashi. Naruto would be _my_ choice of course, but you obviously have poor taste.” Hashirama rolls his eyes but Sai doesn’t stop. In less than a minute’s time, he’s dragged into a long, one-sided rant about how annoying and irritating Naruto is.

It’s the most worked up Hashirama has seen Sai over anything, _ever._

He leans his elbow on the table and rests his chin on his palm. The pieces slowly fall together and he can’t stop the wide grin that stretches over his face.

Sai stops himself mid-sentence, his eyes narrowing. “Whatever stupid thing you’re about to say—”

“You’re jealous.” Hashirama can’t keep the glee out of his voice. Sai huffs, offended.

“Congratulations, you’ve managed to say the most brainless thing in the history of the entire world—”

“You are. You’re the little brother, you don’t know how to share! Madara’s paying attention to Naruto instead of you and this is the only way you can express it! It’s adorable!” Hashirama laughs and draws a spluttering, red-face Sai close to him. He thrashes and curses Hashirama’s name, but he can’t escape. Hashirama has him pinned like a kitten.

“You’re delusional…but don’t you _dare_ say anything to Madara or that blond-haired brat!” Sai snarls, pulling uselessly at Hashirama’s arm.

“I dunno, my silence is a pretty hefty price, you sure you can afford—”

“Do it, and for the next three months you’ll wake up with your hands superglued to your head,” Sai smirks, the edge of his lip curling up. Hashirama frowns and taps his chin. Sai _did_ carry glue that he uses for his brushes and scrolls. And if it was the same kind Tobirama uses for his own calligraphy set…Hashirama can’t help but shudder. Not only would it pinch and be painful, but it’d also set him back on his bet to grow his hair out with Madara. Sai had carried through on smaller promises of inconvenience and pain, there’d been a good two weeks Hashirama couldn’t find his left sandal and anytime he replaced them the left one would always _mysteriously_ disappear hours later. He had ten right sandals strewn about his and Madara’s tiny house. There’d also been the time that Sai tried to give Madara some terrifyingly hot candies, but that backfired when Madara ate half of them at once and asked if he had anymore. Hashirama had tried one himself and barely licked it before his eyes and nose started to run and his tongue felt like it had been lit on fire.

Needless to say, Sai would follow through with the threat.

“Fine, you little demon,” Hashirama loosens his hold and Sai scrambles away, back into his own seat with a victorious smile, “but _I_ know. And I’m never going to forget.” That wipes the grin right off his face and Sai stands with a huff, marching into the sitting room without looking back.

Hashirama waits just a moment before standing and making his way up the stairs. No one to interfere with his plans now. It shouldn’t take too long. And then hopefully Madara wouldn’t stay out too long with Naruto and they’ll have time to take a bath before bed.

He knocks on the door to the Hatake and Yamato’s room. Tazuna’s house was big and empty. He had two extra rooms upstairs, one for the genin and one for their jonin. Hashirama’s not surprised they split like this instead of one team per room. The Hatake clearly doesn’t have a lot of experience with children. He’s probably looking forward to not sleeping next to Naruto, who snores louder than Hashirama and Sakura, who mutters _very_ violent things in her sleep and Sasuke, who tosses and turns all night. It’s oddly nostalgic for Hashirama, reminding him of sleeping in the same room with his brothers when they were all alive.

“Come in,” Yamato answers.

Hashirama slides open the door and fights back a smirk when he sees the Hatake sitting up, reading. _Perfect._

“Yes, Hashirama?”

“Sai’s looking for you, Yamato-sensei. I think he’s upset about something but he won’t tell me what it is,” Hashirama says sweetly, rocking back on his heels. Yamato stands immediately and smiles at him before leaving the room.

Hashirama stays right where he is and the Hatake’s eye slowly looks up from his book to meet his. He smiles, wide and sharp, and is pleased to see the shiver race down the man’s spine. He’s getting that apology, no matter what. Even if he has to tie the Hatake up and sit on him.

Hashirama can admit to himself terrorizing the Hatake until he gets a half-hearted, insincere apology isn’t really the solution. It’s not what he _really_ wants. But maybe if he gets an apology, he’ll feel better. Maybe similarly terrorizing that old Sarutobi geezer and his creepy advisor will make the anger at the way they treat Madara go away. Maybe if they don’t stop looking at Madara with derision, they’ll at least stop looking at him with respect.

“Hatake.”

“Terror.”

Hashirama takes a step forward and the Hatake holds up a hand. He ignores it and takes another. The wooden floor creaks underneath him.

“I have a proposition for you, terror two.”

Hashirama slows, curious in spite of himself. 

“Delay whatever exhausting plan you’ve come up with and leave me alone until the bridge is finished and in return, I’ll give you something precious of mine,” the Hatake offers. Hashirama can see the heavy circles under his visible eye. He must have used his sharingan against Zabuza before they arrived. Madara told him about the transplants, even the blessed ones, and their cost on the user.

“Something precious of yours?” It’s a gamble. Will the item be worth it? Madara isn’t here to stop him…

“Yeah, yeah. Something as precious to me as Madara is to you,” the Hatake says breezily, with a wave of his hand. Hashirama stiffens, his lips thinning. That’s impossible. If the Hatake _did_ value whatever the object was as much as Hashirama did Madara, he’d never offer to give it up.

“Fine. It’s a deal.” Hashirama agrees quickly. It’s only when he sees the shadow of a smirk under the mask that Hashirama realizes he’s been had. The Hatake counted on him reacting irrationally and immediately once Madara was brought up. And, now Hashirama’s stuck in the deal.

“And here’s your prize, my extra copy,” the Hatake is smug as he tosses Hashirama the book in his hand. It’s small and bright orange like Naruto’s clothes. _A book. He compared Madara to a book._ Oh, he’s going to pay now. Forget a half-hearted apology, the Hatake’s going to suffer. Hashirama contemplates ripping it up right here and now but decides against it. He’s not going to be too rash about this again. The Hatake won this battle, but Hashirama’s going to win the war.

He turns on his heel and marches out of the room, fuming.

**Kakashi**

Kakashi is smug for five minutes. Proud that he pulled one over on that little terror and had at least another week of as much guaranteed peace and quiet as possible.

It’s only when Tenzo returns, scratching his head in confusion, that Kakashi realizes he’s going to die by the mokuton.

Not Hashirama’s, Tenzo’s. 

Tenzo had a problem with getting attached to things too quickly, even back in ROOT. It’s how he got his name and, part of the reason, he hadn’t been assigned as a jonin-sensei before now. Eventually, you had to let your team go and, if they were proper clan kids, there’d always be carefully enforced distanced by the clan from the start. It was a recipe for disaster, made especially clear by how he’s treated Team 13 so far. Tenzo is fiercely protective of his terrifying genin.

And Kakashi just gave Hashirama a copy of Icha Icha Paradise.

Hashirama, who is about to turn thirteen and is starting puberty.

Hashirama, who, according to Tenzo, is now dating Madara.

Hashirama, who will no doubt _try_ some of the things in that book.

“Everything okay, Kakashi-senpai? You look a little pale, is your sharingan giving you trouble again?” Tenzo asks, sitting back down on his futon.

“No, no, I’m fine.” He has to get that book back _now._ Before Tenzo finds out and skewers him.

**Sai**

_I am not jealous of that whiny brat._ Sai thinks as he throws himself down on a cushion next to Sakura and Tazuna in the sitting room. They’re playing shogi and barely spare him a second glance as he stews, arms crossed high over his chest.

Team 13 has been active for months, what’s there to even be jealous of? Let Naruto deal with Madara’s constant nagging and complaining. Older brother? Hah! He’s more like an overbearing mother with the way he hounds Sai and comes into his apartment to complain and tell him to clean up after himself and endless reminders to make sure he eats enough. Of course, Shin just _has_ to find the entire thing hilarious. Traitor. He even tolerates being called ‘otouto’ by Madara, who’s two years younger and five inches shorter than him!

“He gets so worked up about everything, I’d feel bad for raising his blood pressure anymore,” Shin had laughed after Sai complained about it. Clearly introducing them had been one of the worst decisions of his life. For all his talk of lowering Madara’s blood pressure, anytime he and Hashirama were over Shin would make endless little comments and digs that wound him up more and usually resulted in a lecture for _Sai_ about being too reckless, how to live up properly to the new clan name, or whatever else Madara felt about ranting on that particular day.

But for all that it was _annoying,_ not pleasant, to be smothered by Madara’s particular brand of affection, there were _some_ benefits to having him around. He and Hashirama were a package deal. Where one went, the other followed. And Hashirama, as much as he hated to admit it, was an extremely competent healer.

Sai knew Shin would never be cured, not completely. His sickness had peaks and valleys, leaving him bedridden for weeks or months at a time before he recovered enough to resume fieldwork with few visible signs that he was sick in the first place. It never left though. Hashirama made it…easier. He freely admitted that chronic illnesses weren’t his specialty, he was a battlefield and emergency medic before all else but…

Sai did…appreciate it whenever he could give Shin even the smallest bit of relief. He could ease the swelling in his muscles and lungs and lessen the pain. Shin still needed to rest most of the day but with Hashirama’s aid, he wasn’t rendered completely immobile as he’d sometimes been in the past.

Still, both of them are _annoying._

Sai was exactly right about his first instinct regarding Senju Hashirama. He, besides the new yellow-haired brat, was the most infuriating person Sai ever had the displeasure of being in extended contact with. His dumb face. His dumb hair. His dumb voice. His dumb _everything_ , that fooled nearly everyone into thinking he was a perfect angel and not about to rob them blind. Sai had seen his gambling, his blatant cheating when his terrible luck turned against him. 

“Don’t complain when it gets us dango,” Hashirama had grinned, passing his money over to a vendor and taking the sticks in turn. He had lost absolutely everything, bet the katanas he had in his battle scroll and cleaned with gambling house clean when he switched out the dice in a neat sleight of hand. “Don’t tell Madara. I might have gone over my time limit but I didn’t lose anything in the end, so he doesn’t need to know.” Hashirama had said before handing over the snack. It didn’t matter in the end, Madara could take one look at him and _know_ and then start lecturing Hashirama about fiscal responsibility like the old, grouchy man he was on the inside. That had been in a decent-sized town in the Land of Grass, a rare instance where he and Hashirama were partnered together to track down and capture a target. Alive. Madara was bad about doing alive _._

As for Madara…the nagging. Enough said.

Sai can’t believe he had been even a little apprehensive about this mission when it was first assigned. Even now, when he knew Danzou had screwed up big time in estimating both Madara and Hashirama’s power level, two agents weren’t enough not even a future captain and a prodigy, he wasn’t worried. There was no need for a kill command and Danzou won’t use it, not if he’s smart. Madara was crazy, but the kind of crazy that obsessively tracked and collected coupons and found it something to brag about, not the kind of crazy to go on a mindless rampage. Obviously, this was another example that you couldn’t trust history books.

Sai’s brought out of his thoughts when Yamato comes downstairs, a soft, worried expression on his face. Sai takes one look at him and scoffs.

“I don’t know what Hashirama told you, but he’s lying.”

“Are you—”

“Yes. Go away.” He’s not in the mood to talk about _feelings_ with Yamato. Especially not made up feelings that Hashirama implied he had just to get Yamato out so he could play a prank on Kakashi. No, Sai’s interested in one thing only: _revenge._ And, after Yamato pats his head in a way that he tolerates but does _not_ like, before heading back upstairs the opportunity presents itself.

The front door opens and Madara and Naruto walk in. Madara heads upstairs as Naruto comes careening into the sitting room, collapsing on the cushion opposite of Sai as he chatters to Sakura about his training, completely oblivious.

Above them, Sai hears the faint rattle of pipes and then the sound of running water, the bath starting to fill, and he fights down a smirk.

He knows _exactly_ how he’s going to get back at Hashirama and the annoying blond brat both in one fell swoop. Two birds, one stone.

**Madara**

“Come on Madara-sensei! It’s only nine, I can keep going!” Naruto complains. He’s sprawled out on the ground, head resting on a gnarly root of a big tree. Madara popped all of his shadow clones and sent the real one flying with a charka-powered jab to his solar plexus. Now he’s hovering over Naruto, fire dancing on his palm. They were finishing up taijutsu basics, focusing on targeting the naturally weak points of the body rather than just swinging wildly like Naruto had been doing before. He’s improving, finally starting to _think_ before he rushes in blindly to attack. It’s taken almost four months but now Madara can say Naruto is ready to start proper ninjutsu training.

Just…not tonight.

“Yes, but _I_ want to take a bath.” The quick dips in freezing cold rivers while they were traveling weren’t cutting it. Madara saw the bathtub when they went upstairs before dinner. It wasn’t _big_ , but it was bigger than his and Hashirama’s. With the toilet in a separate room, there was no reason for anyone to interrupt their long soak. “We can train more tomorrow.”

“Promise?” Naruto asks as Madara hauls him up from the ground.

“’Course. You’re ready to get serious too, so start thinking of what kind of jutsu you want—”

“Really?!” Naruto interrupts, practically vibrating with excitement. “Hey, hey, Madara-sensei. Teach me some cool katons and how to get that blessing thing!” He yells as they trudge out of the forest, back towards Tazuna’s house.

“The blessing is only for the Uchiha, I can’t teach it to you.” Technically he shouldn’t teach him any katons at all since he hasn’t started training his natural affinity first.

“Okay…but what if, let’s say, you made me an Uchiha and then I _did_ become a katon specialist? Could I learn it then?” Naruto bats his eyes in a way he had to learn from Hashirama, it’s so familiar. Madara reaches out and flicks him between the eyes.

_“Please don’t adopt anyone else before telling me first.”_

“It’s still not something I can teach you. You either have it or you don’t.” Even trying to trade eyes to gain the blessing didn’t work, not really. A weaker version might be passed on, but never at the same strength as the original.

“Buuut,” Naruto twiddles his fingers together, glancing at Madara from the corner of his eye, “you didn’t say you couldn’t teach me any katons.”

“You don’t have a fire affinity. I could teach you but it’d be a lot of work, especially since you haven’t mastered your natural affinity.”

“But you _could._ ”

“Yes.”

“Then teach me! Ooh, ooh can you imagine if I got really good at ‘em and all my clones could use ‘em at once?” Naruto is practically vibrating and the thought of such an awesome pyrotechnic display _does_ interest Madara. He’d tried to get Sai to at least learn Fireball to complete the Uchiha’s coming of age ceremony but he’d turned his nose up immediately at the thought of getting fire anywhere his _precious flammable scrolls._

“It _would_ be pretty cool.” Plus Naruto might be able to pull it off. The amount of chakra necessary would be insane but he was like Hashirama with how much of an absurd amount he had. Katons regularly required more chakra than any other nature specialization, forcing users to constantly be replenishing their reserves. And that was before trying to use them en-masse with clones. “Fine, but you should still figure out what your natural affinity is and learn that one too. If it was wind, that’d actually give you a pretty big advantage and you could use clones to boost your own attacks,” Madara mutters under his breath. He knew the basics of fūtons too but could only use them paired with a gunbai.

“Yeah, yeah! That sounds awesome! But…uh, how do I figure out what my affinity is?”

_Isn’t that the question?_ The Uchiha’s fire affinity was so closely linked with their kekkei genkai you just sort of…knew. It was possible to have one without the other, but it was rare. Sasuke could still get Amaterasu’s eyes, but her fire didn’t cling to him. Madara’s a talented sensor but he’s not good enough yet to recognize affinity in chakra signatures, after all they were only one ‘part’ of the entire makeup of chakra. He could recognize the mokuton in Hashirama’s but only because, before Yamato-sensei, Hashirama was the _only one_ with his affinity and Madara knew Hashirama’s signature better than he knew his own.

“Hashirama might have been able to tell when he healed you. Medical ninjutsu is…weird with stuff like that. If not, I’ll ask Yamato-sensei how they figure those things out now.” They have to have something, especially with Konoha being as big and diverse as it is.

“Aw yeah! Thanks Madara-sensei!” Naruto grabs his arm, thankfully the one _not_ with the hand on fire, and hugs it hard as they reach Tazuna’s house.

Naruto throws open the door and scampers off into the sitting room. Madara drops his hand, the fire dispersing as he heads upstairs where he can feel Hashirama’s signature seething. Apparently, his little revenge plan didn’t work. Though _why_ Hashirama has a grudge against Kakashi is something Madara doesn’t really understand. Before this mission, they hadn’t seen him since the first night they arrived.

“Hashirama.” He walks into the room. Hashirama’s laying on his stomach, feet in the air as he scowls down at the first page of a disgustingly bright orange book. “Come on, I want to take a bath.” Hashirama flips the book shut and shoves it inside their pillowcase. He scrambles up from their futon with a grin and a hug that’s closer to a tackle.

Madara drags him to the bathroom, before pushing him off to strip. The bathroom is nearly the same size as theirs, but it’s organized differently. The bath takes up a majority of the space. They’ll both be able to fit, but it’ll be difficult to sit side by side and stretch their legs out. There’s no shower attached to the tub, instead it’s portioned to the side with two small stools and a nozzle beside the tub and across from the sink.

Hashirama turns on the tap, testing the water. Madara isn’t allowed to do it anymore. After a certain point _hot_ all felt the same and Hashirama complained he was being boiled like a lobster whenever Madara set the temperature. They let the tub fill as they scrub themselves down and rinse off. But before Madara can put the soap in his hair, Hashirama grabs his arm.

“What?”

“I want to wash your hair.”

“Why?”

“It’ll be relaxing!” Hashirama grins and Madara reluctantly hands over the bottle. Relaxing as long as he doesn’t tangle it and start yanking to get the knots out…

But Hashirama doesn’t pull his stool closer, he grabs Madara’s hand and hauls him up, towards the tub.

“In the tub?” Madara can’t help but curl his lip. He’s _not_ rinsing his head in their bathwater, that’d be gross.

“We’ll get out to rinse it, don’t worry.” Hashirama gets in and reaches forward to turn off the faucet. Now it’s almost too quiet in the room, with only the sounds of the water sloshing as he moves back against the tub’s edge and their labored breathing in the dense, steamy air.

“This is too complicated,” Madara grumbles but hoists himself in after Hashirama. The tub is deep and full enough that water laps at his sternum. Hashirama makes a twirling motion with his hand but Madara scowls. He reaches out to grab Hashirama’s ankles and yanks until his legs are straight. Then, trying not to splash all of their bathwater over the tub’s edge, Madara crawls over Hashirama’s legs until he can sit on his thighs, knees on either side of his hips.

“This would be a lot easier if you just—”

“Are you going to wash my hair or not?” Madara interrupts. He’s not sitting with his back to Hashirama. This is supposed to be _relaxing_. Plus it’ll end just like it did at the onsen with Hashirama refusing to let go of him. His hair won’t get washed and then he’ll have to go to bed with it still feeling oily and dirty. 

In response, Hashirama pops open the bottle’s cap and squeezes a decent amount of the pink liquid into his hand. It smells like strawberries and Madara’s mouth waters. Sadly the soap is nothing but a lie.

Hashirama reaches up and rubs his palms on Madara’s wet head, working the soap up into a lather. He’s humming something quiet and off-tune under his breath. His fingers dig into Madara’s scalp and he fights not to collapse against Hashirama in a boneless heap.

Madara…can’t remember the last time someone washed his hair. It was probably Mother before she was killed, maybe Yuuto after he finished helping the rest of his younger brothers bathe. Unlike these dumb houses, they have a proper bath that could fit an entire family at the Uchiha compound.

Despite his best efforts, Madara’s body sags forward and he has to rest his arms on Hashirama’s shoulders to keep upright.

“See? It’s nice right?” He can hear the smile in Hashirama’s voice.

Madara grunts but it ends as a whine when Hashirama’s hand slides around to the back of his neck and squeezes gently, more like a massage than bathing. He hates to admit it but Hashirama is right. It’s just washing his hair but it’s…nice. Intimate. His chest aches.

Hashirama doesn’t stop even though the soap is all worked in. He just keeps running his fingers through Madara’s soapy hair, slicking it back away from his forehead before he messes it up and starts over. He gathers up as much as he can and drags it forward, twisting it until it forms some weird kind of horn shape on the left side of his head. Hashirama laughs as he drags his hands through again, pulling Madara’s hair in every direction until it sticks out straight around his head, the water-logged strands quickly drooping down.

Madara must look ridiculous. With the way his scalp tingles and pinches from the weird angles, he _feels_ ridiculous.

But at the sound of Hashirama’s light, carefree laughter, he raises his head. Hashirama’s brown cheeks are flushed red from the heat of the water and he’s managed to get a cluster of soap bubbles stuck to his cheek. He’s smiling so widely his eyes are only narrow slits, Madara’s close enough to see water droplets clinging to his eyelashes and the creases of his future laugh-lines.

Madara can’t breathe. Hashirama is radiant, here in this tub in this random house in a country he didn’t know existed before this mission. They’re here together and Hashirama’s washing his hair and smiling and Madara aches, aches, _aches_ with how much he feels, how much he wants this moment to never end.

His sharingan spins to life.

He can’t stop himself from leaning forward, closing the small distance between them, and pressing his lips gently against Hashirama’s. The ache settles, a bit less overwhelming as his hands slide up to cup Hashirama’s jaw. Hashirama’s own splash down into the water.

He pulls back, ignoring Hashirama’s sound of protest, to press light kisses across his jaw, up his cheeks, and on the center of his forehead. Hashirama’s blush has deepened, his mouth still split wide into a smile, and his brown eyes look suspiciously shiny.

_About to cry from happiness again._

Madara drags his thumbs across the thin, delicate skin under Hashirama’s eyes. He leans forward until their foreheads touch, red and brown eyes locked together.

This is perfect. Madara feels his own eyes start to burn, and if he starts to tear up he’ll blame it on the soap in his hair because he can barely breathe and this is what he wants, to be here to be together with Hashirama and this is so perfect—

Someone starts pounding on the door.

Their tranquil bubble pops.

“What?!” Madara yells, his eyes fizzle back to black.

“Get out! You’ve been in there too long and other people want to take a bath!” _Naruto_ of all people yells back, his voice muffled through the door.

“They can wait!” But Naruto keeps pounding on the door and soon a second pair of hands joins his. _They’re going to break down the door._ Madara grinds his teeth together, feeling a vein pulse on his forehead.

“Well, there are nine other people in the house, besides us,” Hashirama pouts, leaning back against the tub’s edge.

“Yeah, and they should have bathed earlier,” Madara growls. A third set of hands starts pounding on the door. Even if it held, the relaxing atmosphere of the bath has been ruined. Madara pulls away from Hashirama, climbs out of the bath, and stalks towards the door.

He hears Hashirama’s feet pad after him and a towel is thrown over his head before he can rip the door open. Madara grumbles and wraps it around his waist and _then_ throws the door open.

Naruto is in the middle of the pack, but he blanches ghostly white when he sees Madara’s face. On one side, Sai stands, narrowed grin on his face. On his other, is a smaller child with overalls Madara hasn’t seen before.

“What part of ‘wait’ don’t you understand?!” He asks as all the warm air billows out, leaving him cold and wet, soap still in his hair.

“Hey, hey, hey you said this was a normal thing, and he wouldn’t be mad—”

“Oh, we are waiting. And we’ll be _waiting_ just like this until you two get out.” Sai slaps his hand over Naruto’s mouth. He snickers and Madara growls, slamming the door in their faces and, sure enough, as soon as it clicks shut the pounding starts up again, though this time with only two sets of fists.

_Little brothers._ Madara crosses the short space back to the bath and picks up the discarded soap bottle.

“Sit.” He jabs one finger at the stools and Hashirama scrambles to comply. Madara rewets his hair and pours a generous amount of soap directly on his head. He’s not as gentle as Hashirama was, trying to hurry because those assholes are _still_ pounding on the door. If Naruto wants to train tomorrow Madara will show him _training,_ training he’ll never forget!

“Hey, it’s okay,” Hashirama reaches blindly back, his hand knocking awkwardly against Madara’s cheek.

“I wanted to do this properly.” He’s not sulking, he’s _not_ _._

“Aww, are you feeling emotional?” Hashirama cranes his head back to grin. Like he wasn’t two seconds away from crying only a minute ago. Madara scowls at him, ignoring the heat on his cheeks, and sprays him in the face with the showerhead.

Hashirama splutters, rubbing the water from his eyes as Madara rinses the soap from his hair.

“You know, there’s enough space in the yard…I could build a second bath for us. That way we can take our time,” Hashirama says as Madara combs through this hair, checking to make sure all the soap is gone. He glances back over his shoulder and Madara can’t help his wince.

Hashirama is…terrible at making constructions with the mokuton. He can call up entire forests from the earth and huge vines thicker than a grown man’s chest…but trying to make a simple wooden construct? Not even something with detail like the frog-fox, just _anything_ man-made is generally horrendous.

The most reliable ones he can do now are wooden spikes and while they’re fine for combat, they’re not construction quality. Madara has considered investing in a pair of gloves because the spears are so rough any time he touches them or swings up onto one in practice, he inevitably gets a hand full of splinters. Then he has to sit and squirm as Hashirama pries every last one out of his fingers and palms. It’s a curse, the splinters too far under his skin he can’t burn them away, and Hashirama’s own medical ninjutsu useless because it’d just heal the skin over them.

A bath of that quality…with splinters in Madara’s thighs and back…

He shudders.

“Hmph, _fine._ I’ll ask Yamato-sensei to do it.” Hashirama crosses his arms and, even though Madara _knows_ it’s just one of his moods, he leans forward and presses a kiss under his ear. He pretends not to see Hashirama’s smirk as he washes the soap from his own hair.

He does spray him in the face once more for good measure though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Icha Icha book is going to be played mostly for a light-hearted joke but a "just in case" psa, please don't give kids porn...I maintain Kakashi should have gotten therapy and then genin, bc kids are not a good therapy substitute but here we are, thanks Hiruzen. 
> 
> Also I really love thinking/talking about the Uchiha clan and what the clan wide motivations could have been bc we never actually get a good idea in canon. Sure, flashbacks and implications but Madara and Obito as Madara's viewpoints still aren't...*clan* focused and are unreliable between time/bitterness/manipulation. Sasuke is too young and the narrative is very attached to his immediate family rather than the clan. And Itachi...yeah. Saying he had a bias would be a bit of an understatement, IMO. I also will be upfront and say I haven't read the books and I have no plan or interest in doing so. 
> 
> First and foremost, the curse of hatred is a "thing" in this au but it's not real. That'll come up later. Ultimately I don't like it bc with a few other elements of Naruto's story specifying one specific group as being 'cursed by hatred' and being unable to control themselves leading for them to need to be contained and moved away from the other "good" people...smacks of some really bad implications. If multiple clans had been deconstructed and the implications of their kekkei genkai or specific hidden techniques had been explored (the Abruame host insects in their bodies, how does that holistically affect them for god's sake, what is the concept of "privacy" like for the Hyuga and Yamanaka, one can literally see through objects/walls and the other can get into another person's mind/body) this might not have been as bad. It also would have been a good opportunity to dig into established powers, but alas that was another ball dropped. 
> 
> For me, the curse of hatred isn't real, but the Uchiha do idolize power. They *are* power-hungry. This isn't an inherently bad thing, but it quickly can turn bad if unregulated and is very prone to being misunderstood or weaponized against them. Madara, and by large the clan, are taught that power is only meaningful if it can be used to protect others. Power should be cultivated, but not at the cost of destroying the clan in the process. Working from this point meshes well with canon Madara's ultimate goals/how he went about classifying the world/even how it got twisted and warped into the EotM plan without being 'oh yeah, those Uchiha, they all fall prey to the curse of hatred eventually that's just how they are, except Sasuke bc he had Naruto to save him'
> 
> Anyway, that's my curse of hatred/oversimplistic characterization of the canon!Uchiha clan and desperate desire to patch it with headcanons rant for today LOL
> 
> The next chapter will be posted on Thursday, January 21st. 
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://mira--mira.tumblr.com/) for more content!
> 
> Thank you for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! It means a lot to me! <3  
> 


	6. Land of Waves: V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter where Sakura finally gets to be a real, complex character that has motivations outside of Sasuke...yes I'm still bitter. On a related note, it's only lightly referenced here, but Sakura and Ino are still friends. It can seem like the end of the world as a kid if your best friend likes the same person as you do and that could be an interesting topic to explore...but the way canon handles *every single* reoccurring female character and their fixation on (usually romantic) relationships with men over any other relationship with women...welcome to one of many examples of misogyny. There's tension in Sakura and Ino's relationship that will be touched on but it's not about Sasuke. 
> 
> Also! I've gotten a few comments asking about how the story will end (happy/unhappy ending) and I wanted to clarify a few things. First the three "options" in the first chapter still broadly apply here, either Madara and Hashirama belong to this timeline or they don't. There will be fallout/angst in some form, either they'll have to leave this new family behind or accept their world is gone (time travel devil's bargain) and either will result in a myriad of other consequences to deal with. Additionally, this is *not* an everybody lives/nobody dies au, for heroes and villains alike. Right now this is more about not cutting off potential avenues for myself rather than having specific deaths in mind. I don't like sensational deaths that serve no other purpose than shock the audience, but I will kill off characters that get into a situation that they reasonably couldn't get out of (see Neji's death in the war arc vs his "death" in part one during the Sasuke retrieval arc for a sensational v reasonable death.) All of that said, as an author, I don't like to write endings that are nothing but heart-wrenching tragedies. Canon does that enough for Hashirama and Madara, and to end something I'm going to spend months, if not years, on with 'everybody dies/nobodies happy' ...it's just not my cup of tea. So an imperfect, but not tragic ending! Relatively happy, somewhat bittersweet, and ultimately satisfying, is what I'm aiming for! 
> 
> I've updated the tags and put on "creator chose not to use warnings" to reflect this and I'll do my best to give individual chapter warnings if/when chapters need it. I hope that cleared up any confusion and hopefully reassured readers. I will rip your heart out, but I won't kill you LOL. 
> 
> Enjoy!~

**Kakashi**

Kakashi’s morning starts out great.

And by great, he means terrible.

He could barely sleep the night before between his sharingan induced headache and the knowledge that he could _not_ let terror two realize how badly he fucked up by giving him that book. Eventually, he gave up and went downstairs to get a drink only to find Sasuke outside on the boardwalk, staring at the water. Which he had been doing for hours, apparently. After herding him inside, and ignoring the suspicious glares directed at his covered left eye, Kakashi went back upstairs to collapse and bemoan that he would…actually have to do something about Sasuke. Maybe. Probably. Definitely.

At breakfast he tells his team that they’re training today, only to be met with complaints from Naruto that no, he’s training with _Madara-sensei_ today. Sasuke scoffs, he looks a little better after a night of sleep, and Naruto nearly tackles him out of his chair.

“You can train with Madara later,” god was _that_ why Naruto’s been more focused in training, actually managing to land a decent hit or two on Sasuke when they spar? “I’m sure he has to train with his own team too,” Kakashi looks to Tenzo who only looks up when he clears his throat.

“Uh, actually the island is a bit too small and too…populated for our training,” Tenzo scratches the back of his head and Kakashi feels another headache building between his eyes. Of course, it is. They’re trying to put some distance between Team 13 and the four-masked figures. Team 13 is a combat-tracking team with an emphasis on ninjutsu. The masked figures are purely kenjutsu and taijutsu.

_He asked for this. He literally asked for this when he formally requested back-up._

God if only this had been a properly ranked mission.

After breakfast Kakashi drags his genin away and into the forest, hobbling along on an unnecessary crutch. He didn’t need it but Gato might have spies in the village. Better that he be underestimated right now if he sends in men besides Zabuza.

“What’s our training going to be, Kakashi-sensei?” Sakura asks as they come to a stop in a little clearing.

“Tree-climbing!” Kakashi wheels around and smiles brightly under his mask, taking pleasure in the three identical expressions of irritation.

“Tree climbing…” Sasuke trails off, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Not just any ordinary tree climbing. You’ll be climbing without using your hands to practice your chakra control.” Kakashi gives a demonstration, climbing until he’s hanging upside down on a branch, looking at his cute little genin. He explains the theory behind it and immediately sees Sakura perk up, while the two boys still glower up at him. He throws kunai at their feet and tells them to start practicing.

The encounter with Zabuza has, unfortunately, reminded him that they all need better generalized skills as well as a reliable medic-nin on their team. In a pinch, Kakashi knows the most basic of medical ninjutsu. He doubts Naruto will show any aptitude for it, he has the stamina necessary but not the chakra control. He managed to wrap his head around shadow clones but still fails miserably with normal ones. Sasuke would run into the classic Uchiha problem of long-term endurance. That plus his insistence on purely offensive techniques suggests that he wouldn’t have the focus or commitment to medical arts. That left—

“This is pretty easy, sensei!” Sakura yells from her perch at the top of her tree, swinging her legs back and forth. Sasuke huffs, leaning back against his tree. He’s made decent progress, but Naruto has barely gotten two steps up the trunk before falling back to the ground, rolling around and clutching at his head.

“Again!” Kakashi calls and Sakura’s slips from the tree, cheeks puffed out in irritation.

They spend the next hour practicing. Sakura consistently reaches the top of the tree with each try, but her endurance is weak, weaker than Sasuke’s. She was the top of her class in grades, but not practical skills, Kakashi remembers. Still, her natural control is impressive. Definitely, the best candidate to start dabbling in medical ninjutsu even if she doesn’t become a full medic-nin. Genjustu would probably come more naturally to her too.

As for the boys…

Kakashi bites back a wince. Sasuke has improved some, but not much. Not as much as Kakashi thought he would have since they started. _He’s still distracted._ Team 13’s return hasn’t done him any good. Naruto has made the least progress overall; he keeps switching from too little chakra to too much.

But, as Kakashi watches him wave Sakura over, pointing at the tree and then himself, presumably asking for help, Kakashi admits he’s making progress in other areas.

Though a little encouragement might help both of them…

“Wow, Sakura-chan’s chakra control and skills are amazing, at this rate she’s more likely to become Hokage than a certain someone else…” Naruto swivels to glare at him, rising from his crouch to yell. “And it looks like the Uchiha clan isn’t all that great—” Kakashi realizes halfway through, maybe he _shouldn’t_ bring up the Uchiha clan given…recent appearances.

And, as if to prove him right, the terrors arrive.

All three of them.

Hashirama is at the front, grinning as he bounces from tree to tree, using the forest as an oversized jungle gym. Sai is right behind him, face red with anger, his mouth pulled back in a snarl.

“Give it back!” He snaps, crashing onto Kakashi’s branch. He keeps his balance upside down, but only barely. The branch shudders and creaks ominously as Sai jumps off. He’s faster than Hashirama, but Hashirama is more agile and familiar with the trees. He jumps closer, leading Sai around on a wild goose chase and Kakashi sees a long, unfamiliar scroll in his hand. “Madara! Make him give it back!” Sai yells just as he fumbles and slips off one of the higher branches.

Madara darts from the canopy, catching the back of his crop top with both hands. He’s perpendicular to the trunk, dangling Sai straight over the ground.

“Apologize.”

“No, I was right—”

“If you want my help, apologize.” Madara shakes him. Terror three scowls, his entire face twisting with the expression and Kakashi doesn’t think he’s ever seen a ROOT agent or junior agent display that much emotion.

“ _Fine,_ ” Sai hisses between clenched teeth. “I’m so, so sorry I tricked that blond idiot into doing my bidding and interrupted your make-out session in the bath.” Below them Naruto squawks in protest.

“Why do I suddenly not want to help you after all?” Madara shakes him again.

“I apologized. You never said it had to be sincere.” Sai tilts his head back, Kakashi barely catches the mean smile on his lips.

“It’s implied.”

“But not explicit.”

Madara huffs and then heaves him upward. Sai scrabbles at the branch and pulls himself up as Madara walks along the trunk to stand beside him.

“You said—”

“Just wait.” Not ten seconds later Kakashi can hear the sound of thudding and Hashirama ducks back into the clearing, looking around. He spots Sai and holds the scroll up with a taunting shake. And then he sees Madara next to Sai and the smirk slides off his face.

“W-w-wait, Madara—”

Madara is already off, flying across the space so quickly he’s just a blur to slam into Hashirama.

Hashirama doesn’t topple off the branch, but only because he centered chakra on his feet and swung down, hanging unhappily upside down as Madara straightens, scroll in hand. He tosses it back to Sai, who catches it and takes off in the direction of Tazuna’s house.

Kakashi looks back towards his own genin. They’re all distracted, staring up at the now squabbling terrors in the tree, not practicing their tree-climbing.

“Oi! Terrors—”

“Madara-sensei! C’mere!” Naruto shouts over Kakashi. The terrors, who look like they’re about to kiss or start throwing punches, reluctantly break away and turn towards Naruto.

 _Why can’t we have one normal practice session?_ Kakashi thinks and lets himself fall from the branch so he can put himself between Sasuke and the terrors as said terrors make their way over.

**Hashirama**

Hashirama pouts at Madara’s back. Madara was supposed to be on _his_ side in their game of keep-away from Sai. He even chose to steal one of Sai’s normal scrolls to get back at him, not his _super-secret_ one so Madara would play along. It’s the least he deserved after Naruto cornered them early this morning and revealed Sai had been the mastermind behind the bath interruption and Naruto was tricked into it. Tricked by Sai telling him he wasn’t allowed to do the apparent _tradition_ of pounding on the door and yelling to get, so of course, Naruto charged right up the stairs to do it anyway. Not that Hashirama was _surprised_ but he really wished Naruto could have waited until breakfast, instead of waking them up at three in the morning and nearly getting Madara’s kunai plunged into his throat for the trouble. 

_I didn’t even get to hear Sai’s undoubtedly terrible apology._ Hashirama collapses on the ground next to Sakura as Naruto chatters on, explaining his exercise.

 _Chakra control?_ They didn’t know how to do basic chakra control? They grew up in the _Land of Fire_ for the Rikudou’s sake! Surrounded by trees! Where was the old leaf on the forehead exercise Butsuma swore by?

“Alright, show me what you can do.”

Hashirama watches as Naruto takes a running start at the tree, makes it up seven steps, and then falls backward. Madara catches him and sets him down before he can smack his head on the ground. By the way he still tenderly reaches up to rub at it, he’s fallen head-first multiple times before.

“I’m getting better! I could only do two when I first started. Then four. And now seven! Sakura-chan helped me out.” Naruto fidgets and looks toward him and Sakura, a light blush on his cheeks.

“Did you already figure out how to do it?” Hashirama asks her, but his eyes are on the Hatake, casually standing by Sasuke’s tree, speaking lowly to him. _Why is he acting like a guard?_ He only moved when he and Madara did.

“Yeah, it was pretty easy.” Hashirama expects her to continue but she doesn’t. His eyes flick to hers, but she’s just staring at him.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” Hashirama scrubs at his cheeks but Sai hadn’t made fun of him earlier so he doesn’t know what could be there.

“No…” Sakura looks away and Hashirama knows he’s missing something.

“Okay, here’s what you do,” Madara crouches down and lays his hand on the ground, drawing something in the dirt that’s been exposed with Naruto’s many failed attempts, “think of it as a cracked bowl of instant ramen.”

Hashirama slaps his hands over his mouth to muffle his laughter, Madara sounds so _serious_ , as Sakura slumps next to him.

“I’m surrounded by ramen obsessed idiots,” she mutters, burying her face in her knees.

“The chakra is the water; you are the bowl. You have to pour enough water into the bowl that it fills so you can eat the ramen, but you have to constantly get the balance right. Too much and it spills over, ruining your meal. Too little and it all drains out, ruining your meal.” Madara finishes and leans back with a self-satisfied smile.

“Madara-sensei, you’re a _genius,_ ” Naruto’s blue eyes sparkle and he shoots up with a loud laugh. “The chakra is the water,” he brings his hands together, gathering chakra in his feet, “and I am the booooooowl!” he takes a running start at the tree.

He goes up, up, up, feet pounding into the bark. It’s still not _great_ , not by Hashirama or Madara’s standards but when Naruto finally wobbles and falls off, his last cut in the tree is a good thirty feet above his former best. A quick glance at Sasuke’s tree puts them about even, a fact not lost on Naruto.

“Hah! I’m catching up, Sasuke-bastard! I’m not gonna lose to you!” Naruto yells, jabbing a finger at Sasuke, who’s stock-still, staring up at Naruto’s mark. Naruto spins around, looking between the three of them. “Did ya see? Did ya?” He’s shaking with excitement, a bright grin on his face.

“Good job.” Madara pats his messy blond head. Naruto freezes and for a moment Hashirama thinks he’s about to burst into tears. Instead, he turns away and runs at the tree again. His next mark is mere inches above the last, but at least the first jump in progress was consistent.

Madara goes to sit down beside him, but before he can the Hatake speaks.

“You three go the bridge and guard Tazuna.”

“M-me too, sensei?” Sakura looks shocked when Kakashi nods before her expression evens out into determination.

 _You’re not in charge of us._ Hashirama thinks with a grumble. He stands, but only because Madara extends a hand to pull him up.

“Just you wait, Madara-sensei! When you come back, I’ll be at the next branch at least,” Naruto thumbs his nose but Hashirama can’t help but think he looks a little nervous with them leaving.

“Any progress is progress,” Madara reassures him.

“But at the very least, let me heal that goose egg before you give yourself a concussion.” Hashirama gathers medical chakra in his hand and lays it gently on the back of Naruto’s head. He soothes the swelling and numbs the pain. Naruto probes at the back of his head and Hashirama swats his hand away before he can jab the healing bump.

“Try not to land on your head. Do you know how to protect your neck when you fall?” He asks, pressing down towards the muscles in the back of Naruto’s neck. It’s not an in-depth assessment but nothing feels out of place. No overextension, no inflammation, no fractures or misalignment in his spine.

“Uhh—”

“Terrors! Get a move on,” the Hatake jerks his chin. Madara squeezes his hand and Hashirama forces his bubbling irritation down.

“Tuck your chin so your head doesn’t slam against the ground. Try to roll a bit, don’t just come to a sudden jarring stop and keep your elbows and knees bent,” Hashirama says quickly, ignoring the Hatake’s shooing gesture. 

Naruto nods, looking a bit overwhelmed as the three of them walk away, before he refocuses on the tree.

Guarding Tazuna is _boring._

The three of them sit near the end of the bridge, watching the workers. They carry huge pallets and steel beams back and forth, using large growling metal contraptions that Hashirama has never seen before. The edge of the bridge extends bit by bit, its steel skeleton reaching for the mainland beyond.

There’s not a lot to do. Hashirama doesn’t think, even if Zabuza is alive, he’ll be back anytime soon. He’d have to find a powerful medic to fix his arms otherwise, he’d be bedridden for months and still might not recover their full use. Even if Gato were to send someone else, Hashirama wouldn’t be able to do something until the assassin was right in front of him.

This far out onto the bridge, there’s nothing but open water beneath him. He shifts back against the railing and then presses against Madara. It’s like Suna. No plant life around him, no roots beneath his feet. They’ve been sitting out here for hours and he does _not_ like it.

Hashirama fidgets and grabs one of Madara’s hands, trying to distract himself by tracing the lines and callouses, running his fingers over a raised scar that curls around the base of Madara’s thumb. Madara keeps his eyes on the workers around them, properly ‘guarding’ as best he can in this situation, but he doesn’t yank his hand away from Hashirama or admonish him. Not after Hashirama first started feeling antsy and grabbed his hand to draw the character for wood in his palm before crossing it out and tapping the concrete beneath them. He couldn’t say it out loud, just in case there _was_ a spy or someone reporting back to Gato in the workers. But Madara understood, the sharp glint of irritation bleeding from his eyes.

After lunch, he tries to talk to Sakura, but that conversation quickly fizzles out. He can’t _focus_ properly and he’s still missing something. Sakura is perfectly cordial making meaningless small talk, but her mint green eyes are sharp, looking between him and Madara who’s still focused on the workers.

Hashirama feels an overwhelming sense of relief when the sun starts to set and construction is stopped for the day. Tazuna cleans himself up and then walks over to them.

“Come on, I have to pick up groceries for dinner.” He’s not in a good mood. Hashirama vaguely remembers one of the workers quit in the middle of the shift today but his mind is still muddled and fuzzy until they step off the bridge and back onto the dirt road.

The plants’ chakra surrounds him again and he nearly stumbles from the sudden intensity, like a physical blow to the chest. At least this time he didn’t pass out. When they left the desert, it was near nightfall and when they entered a proper _forest_ for the first time in three weeks Hashirama had collapsed and slept for nearly forty-eight hours straight. As terrifying as that had been, it was nice to wake up in Madara’s arms. Less pleasant had been Madara, who insisted he wasn’t crying, berating him for dropping like a sack of rice and making him worry.

Now, it’s just a sudden rush of dizziness as he pauses in the middle of the path and slips off his sandals to dig his toes in the hard-packed earth.

“Hashirama.” Madara’s stopped up ahead, watching him carefully. The other workers move past them both, occasionally obscuring Hashirama’s view. Madara jerks his head and Hashirama hurries to catch up, sandals in hand.

Madara grabs his other hand and taps the center of his palm. _Ok?_ Hashirama grins in response as they hurry back towards Sakura and Tazuna, the former’s pink hair standing out like a beacon in the crowd.

They wander into the center of the city and melancholy rushes over Hashirama. It’s familiar.

The state of disrepair, the desperation in the eyes of begging adult and child alike. The Senju were well off by shinobi standards, but this could easily be their compound during a string of bad seasons. Hashirama glances at Madara and finds him tense, looking forward as a storm gathers in his eyes. This could be the Uchiha in any season.

The store Tazuna stops at is hardly a store. It’s so poorly stocked there aren’t even signs or prices like in Konoha, just wilting vegetables and bare dusty shelves. The glass front has been broken and pieced back together, barely held together by tape. Hashirama sees the thief that targets Sakura’s bag. He catches the man’s hand and pushes him away before she notices.

 _Don’t do this._ He meets the thief’s dark eyes and does nothing as the man slinks out of the store. Tazuna gathers his meager groceries and Hashirama has to tug Madara away.

The storm in his eyes breaks when a child grabs the back of Sakura’s dress and tugs. Hashirama already knows how this will end.

“Gimme!” The girl can’t be older than five, absolutely filthy and missing her shoes. She smiles widely, revealing two missing bottom teeth. Madara chokes next to him as Sakura hands over the only thing she has, tiny wrapped candies some friend in Konoha had given her. The girl runs away, meager prize clutched close to her chest as the other children and adults watch with narrowed, envious eyes. It’ll be a miracle if she has time to eat them before they’re stolen.

Tazuna starts walking again, Sakura trailing beside him but Madara is frozen in place. He’s staring at the place the little girl disappeared into the crowd, fists clenching and unclenching by his side.

“Madara…” Hashirama touches his shoulder gently. He doesn’t move.

“I…I can’t…” Madara’s head whips towards the two little boys sitting outside the store’s front, legs pulled close to their chests. Their clothes hang off thin, bony shoulders. Arms little more than thin sticks attached to shoulders and veiny hands.

Hashirama leans forward to meet his eyes. They’re shiny with tears and filled with rage.

“We should kill Gato.” Madara’s eyes flick to his. Yamato had briefed them this morning, before he stole Sai’s scroll, on Gato, his corporation, and the politics of this country.

“We could threaten him first?” It’s more an offer than a rebuttal. Hashirama’s not surprised when Madara scoffs and shakes his head. Killing Gato wasn’t their mission, wasn’t even Team 7’s. If they got involved it might get Yamato or Konoha in trouble.

But that’s only if they got caught.

The Land of Waves is starving, collapsing in on itself. Hashirama heard Tazuna talk of the bridge, in brief snippets when they were in the Land of Fire, and more at breakfast and on his construction break. The bridge is supposed to restore the people’s spirit, give them a better, brighter future something for every man, woman, and child to rally behind.

Hashirama likes the sentiment. Likes the symbol the bridge could make, the hope it could inspire for a better, united future.

Madara knows symbol and sentiment won’t feed the starving. 

“What’s stopping him from destroying the bridge once we leave?” Madara whispers, dragging Hashirama’s buried thoughts into the light. He still doesn’t… _get_ what a corporation is but ultimately it meant Gato had power and money.

A _lot_ of money.

Money to hire Zabuza, those two chunin, and assumedly more.

Money to destroy the bridge, in one way or another.

Gato is, in a lot of ways, the leader of the Land of Waves or trying to be. He’s a terrible one. Leaders are meant to encourage their people, help them. Bring them peace and prosperity, not actively hurt and starve them.

And if the leader is hurting their own people and won’t stop…

“Yeah, you’re right.” Hashirama rocks back on his feet and folds his arms behind his head. “But that’s not what we’re doing tonight. You want help hunting or should I go back to Tazuna’s and bug Yamato-sensei about that bath?” The rage hasn’t left Madara’s eyes but his lips quirk up in a tiny smile, despite it. Hashirama knows him. He knew more or less what Madara would want to do the second the little girl tugged on Sakura’s dress. Yamato’s little rule about adopting is about to get pushed to its limit…

“The bath. Get Sai to clean and cook the game when I bring it back.”

Hashirama nods and watches as Madara weaves through the buildings, off the main road in the quickest route to the island’s central forest.

 _So much for Madara washing my hair and cuddling in the bath tonight_ , Hashirama thinks with a pang. At least it’s for a good cause.

He turns around and races to catch up again with Sakura and Tazuna.

“Where’s Madara?” Yamato asks when they arrive back at the house. He’s in the kitchen, wearing one of Tsunami’s spare pink aprons, helping her chop up vegetables.

“Hunting.” Hashirama steps up next to him, watching him slice the scallions. Yamato looks down at him, concern in his eyes. “Animals. He’s hunting game.” Hashirama clarifies and Yamato gives a sigh of relief. “Where’re the others?” Besides them, Sakura, Tsunami, and Tazuna the kitchen and dining room are empty.

“Naruto and Sasuke are still out training, Kakashi-senpai seemed to be searching for something last I saw him and Sai is upstairs making fake copies of all his scrolls.” Yamato gives him a _look_ and Hashirama smiles innocently.

“Hey, Yamato-sensei, when you’re done with this, can you help me out with something?” Hashirama explains what he wants and when he finishes Yamato has the same indescribable expression that he _knows_ is going to start another incomprehensible birds and bees lecture. “I’d do it myself, but Madara will probably yell at me if any of the kids get a splinter.”

“…kids?”

Hashirama breathes a silent sigh of relief that he’s managed to side-step the lecture for the fifth time.

“Well, yeah. Why do you think Madara is out hunting? We walked through the city today and he saw all the hungry dirty kids. We’re gonna feed them and clean them up.”

Yamato gives a small sigh of exasperation, but his eyes are fond as he sets down the knife and they head outside. Hashirama can see a flash of pink and green from the corner of his eye as the door shuts behind them.

“I expect you to help me remind him why he can’t adopt these kids and bring them back to Konoha,” Yamato says as runs through mokuton signs and a small wooden bath with two smaller buckets rise from the ground, all perfectly made. Hashirama nods solemnly by his side.

Little kids, especially young civilian kids, were like orchids.

They needed constant care; you couldn’t leave them alone for long periods of time, and taking them on missions was just a bad idea overall. Madara didn’t let him buy the kind of delicate plants that would need to be watered every day and needed a careful amount of sunlight and soil quality. They’d die whenever they left for longer assignments and Madara was, unfortunately, correct that Hashirama would try and cart them along if he had them or cry over the dead wilted plants whenever they returned.

Civilian kids were Madara’s orchids.

However much he might want to take them home, it was a bad idea.

Hashirama kept the logical opposite, small shinobi were like small hardy plants, to himself. The abundance of cacti in their tiny house along with Sai, Shin, and Naruto’s presences spoke for themselves…

“I understand, Yamato-sensei,” Hashirama says when it becomes clear that Yamato wants him to respond. He sighs and ruffles Hashirama’s hair.

“Come get me when Madara comes back, alright?” Hashirama nods and he disappears back inside the house.

 _Now to get the hose and fill it up._ Hashirama finds the pump on the edge of the yard and the bright yellow hose connected to it just as a shadow falls over him.

“Are you finally ready to talk to me instead of just staring?” Hashirama asks and stands up from his crouch to meet Sakura’s gaze. It’s been _days_ and Hashirama will admit he’s curious about whatever she has to say.

“How’d you get Madara to agree to go out with you?” She blurts out.

“Huh?” Hashirama’s left holding a dripping hose and feeling like he…missed something else. “Go out where? You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Now Sakura looks at him like _he’s_ the idiot.

“I meant _dating._ How’d you get Madara to agree to start dating you?”

That…clarifies nothing. Hashirama thinks he heard the phrase before, maybe in one of Yamato’s birds and bees lectures, but he doesn’t know what it means.

“What’s dating?” Hashirama tilts his head to the side. Sakura squints at him.

“Are you making fun of me?”

“No? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Dating is when you spend a lot of time with the person you really like, who’s more than just a friend. It’s kissing, holding hands, doing special things with them, that kind of stuff. And eventually, you get married,” Sakura’s still talking, explaining something else, but Hashirama is stuck on the _getting married_ part.

“You know Madara and I are both boys, right?” He interrupts, hands tightening around the hose. Sakura glares at him and puts her hands on her hips.

“Yeah and?”

“Two boys can’t get married; they can’t have children.” That was the whole point of marriage! The duty to the clan, to provide the next generation of heirs.

“Why are _you_ saying that?! There’s nothing wrong with two boys or two girls falling in love and wanting to get married!” Sakura stomps her foot and normally Hashirama would recognize the volatility of this situation but he can’t focus on any of that because…

“You _want_ people to fall in love?” Hashirama splutters, and barely catches the fist that swings towards him as Sakura yells, “YES!” at the top of her lungs. Butsuma must be rolling in his grave right now. “Madara and I…we’re…it’s…”

Hashirama’s at a loss for words. Madara’s just… _Madara._ His best friend, his most precious person, the one he wants to wake up next to every day and share every moment with—

Hashirama only realizes he’s been managed to splutter all of that out loud when Sakura rips her hand away and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Yeah, that’s called being in love, dumbass.”

Hashirama drops the hose and sinks to the ground, covering his burning face with his hands.

He could…maybe admit his relationship with Madara wasn’t just an intensely close friendship. Hashirama has a handful of friends in the Senju compound, none he’s extremely close to, but he’s still never wanted to kiss any of them, much less actually done it. He’s never wanted to cling to them and never let go because the world is just too bleak and lonely without them there.

But Hashirama never thought he’d get to this point to start with.

Madara is an Uchiha, _any_ kind of relationship besides hatred and enmity was supposed to be off-limits. He hadn’t thought there was could be anything beyond their strong but unlikely friendship until Madara saved him from tumbling off the cliff and awakened his sharingan.

It was stupid. He’d been teasing Madara and misjudged how stable the rock underneath him was. It started to crumble and Hashirama flailed. If he fell, with how high the cliff was and the rocky ridge below…even with his healing…

Madara pulled him back just in time and they toppled to the ground, Hashirama shaking with tears in his eyes above Madara. Madara, below him, equally teary, yelling at him for his stupidity, with bright red eyes.

Hashirama knew what it meant for an Uchiha to awaken a sharingan. There was a reason they were monsters, cursed with hatred. They loved individuals, not the collective.

The Senju were the clan of love. A nameless love that extended to the family, the clan, the _duty_ towards their people. Individual love was a threat, it endangered the collective by placing a single person over the greater good of the clan. Tobirama admonished him over his behavior after Mom, Itama, and Kawarama died, when his mourning period stretched beyond what was considered appropriate and normal. He wasn’t responsible, he didn’t kill them, but he still felt like a failure. He wasn’t sent on the mission where Kawarama fell, but he had been too late to save Itama from the Uchiha. He’d been too late to save Mom from the fast-acting poison meant for Butsuma. Each death had been harder to bear than the last, his family continually ripped away.

“You will be the clan head someday, Hashirama. All the women are your mother, all the men your father. Every boy your brother, every girl your sister. You cannot place one life above anyone else’s, not theirs, not _mine_ ,” Tobirama had said in his Logical Adult Voice that grated on Hashirama’s nerves. Like it meant nothing that it was _their_ brothers, _their_ mom that died. He knew that was just the way Tobirama mourned, by embracing the rules and shoving all his emotions down but it was infuriating.

It was the _proper_ Senju way.

But Madara had awakened his sharingan for _him._

Madara had felt so strongly at the thought of losing _him_.

 _Him_ , Hashirama alone. Not a nameless, faceless person, one out of hundreds.

It made him breathless, but only later. At the time he’d been too worried about Madara never coming back because they knew each other’s names. Then he’d freaked out when he realized _exactly_ who Madara was, who his mother was. Nearly three years dead and the Senju still whispered prayers to the Rikudou for protection whenever the Witch was mentioned. Still, the thought lingered in the back of his mind and he got giddy if he thought about it for too long. And then they fell through time. And they got to spend every day together and there were no repercussions from the Senju or Uchiha for being together. Hashirama was so overwhelmed with his own feelings that he crossed the carefully maintained line and now…

And now…

_Yeah, that’s called being in love, dumbass._

Hashirama’s blush deepens and he curls over his knees, palms still pressed to heated cheeks.

“You’re mean,” Hashirama mutters at Sakura, still standing over him.

“And I thought you’d be helpful!” She huffs. “You were supposed to be like me or…I wanted you to be like me…but I guess those were stupid thoughts, weren’t they?” She kicks at the ground and Hashirama peeks up between his fingers.

“What do you mean? I thought you were a girl—”

“I am a girl!” Sakura interrupts, stomping her foot again. “I _meant_ you’re not from a clan, but your teammates are and you’re dating an Uchiha,” she glares at him, daring him to contradict her. Hashirama thinks it’s over the ‘dating’ point, and sure his embarrassment sparks up again, but he’s also caught on the _not from a clan_ remark. At first, he thinks it’s just more proof that the Senju really were wiped out like the Uchiha, possibly even _before_ them, but wait…he never introduced himself to Sakura…did he? And Hashirama doesn’t wear the Senju insignia like Madara and Sai wear the uchiwa.

_Oops._

Butsuma continues rolling.

“But even if you’re clanless, you share the same name and kekkei genkai with the God of Shinobi, we’re nowhere near similar,” Sakura sinks into a crouch opposite of him, “I’m just a civilian, not a _real_ kunochi.”

 _God of Shinobi?_ Hashirama’s first, immediate thought is he can’t wait to brag about it to Madara. He was given the epithet of a god! His second thought is he has to wait because Hashirama was ahead in their spars for a good month as their numbers went up and down, but now they’re back to even. If he brags now, Madara will just mock him. _Some god you are, Hashirama! You can’t even beat me!_ He has to wait until the perfect moment, preferably when he’s up by one if not two…and then the rest of Sakura’s words sink in.

“What do you mean, you’re not a real kunochi?”

“I heard a little bit of your and Madara’s conversation with Naruto,” she runs her hand absently over the blades of grass, gently tugging on them, “when we were camping the first day? Madara said you two weren’t from the village.

“You don’t _get_ what it’s like being from a civilian background in Konoha. Everyone expects you to be useless. After all, what good are you when there are clans? You don’t have a kekkei genkai. You don’t have special inherited hiden techniques. You don’t have anyone to spar or practice with from birth. You’re nothing special, just a nobody,” she scowls and starts plucking the grass.

“Everyone laughs when you say you want to be a kunochi and tells you to be a merchant like your parents. Civilian kids always drop out or get overshadowed so why do you even want to try? You do all you can and graduate top of your class but you’re still left behind because all your knowledge is theoretical not practical and everyone _knows_ the clan kids are better, are worth more, will do more. So your stupid sensei doesn’t even bother, and your best friend doesn’t get it, and the boy you like won’t even look at you, and no one _understands_.” She’s ripping out entire fistfuls of grass, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

“I was pretty limited before the mokuton awakened,” Hashirama whispers softly, reaching out to grab her chlorophyll stained hand. “I can’t use any genjutsu. I’m not a sensor like my brother or Madara. The mokuton is made up of earth and water affinities, but I can’t use either by themselves. Both my taijutsu and kenjutsu are still pretty simple, nothing flashy or complicated. All I had was chakra control, but that was enough.”

The mokuton awakened when he was ten, just after he met Madara and Kawarama died, but he’d always known it was there due to certain…oddities. Hashirama healed too quickly from any injury even without signs and he had only gotten sick once in his entire life. In the summer, when the sun beat down, he barely ate but was bursting with so much energy he couldn’t keep still. Likewise, he’d grow tired and lethargic in the winter, wanting nothing more than to curl up and sleep. Sometimes if he fell asleep outside, he’d wake and hear whispers in the rattling leaves and swaying grass. They led him to things, hidden berry patches, thickets full of medicinal herbs, clearings full of game.

“You’re my little miracle, Hashirama.” Mom would say when he’d tell her, sprawled out next to her as she did her embroidery. Her red eyes sparkled with fondness at every story, pin-straight white hair falling forward as she leaned closer to listen. Unspoken between them was it’d be a bad idea to tell Butsuma any more than necessary.

Before that, Hashirama had fought five years without the mokuton in battle. His mastery over chakra control was so fine, his strength so great, it made up for his other lackluster skills. If he could get close enough to land a hit on an opponent between bone-shattering strength and medical ninjutsu that could rip chakra pathways apart…they were dead.

“Really?” Sakura sounds skeptical.

“If you can rupture organs with one hit…” Hashirama trails off with a shrug and lets go of her hand.

“I’m better at tree-climbing than either Naruto or Sasuke. Kakashi-sensei said my chakra control was the best.” She looks up and meets his eyes. “But that’s nowhere near the level you’re talking about, is it?”

“No,” Hashirama answers honestly. “It’s like a puddle compared to the ocean.”

“But you know how to do it, you’re a master.”

“In chakra control, yeah.” The mokuton gave him the ability to heal _himself_ without hand signs, but it was still Hashirama’s chakra control that allowed him to heal others.

“Would you teach me?” Her voice is strong, steady. It only wavers on the last word.

Hashirama bites his lip and tilts his head back to look at the darkening sky.

“I’m willing to try, but I’m not a teacher like Madara. I’ve never taught anyone before. It’s not going to be easy.” Chakra control was something you felt, something you managed and controlled in your own reserves, through your own paths and coils. He’s not a sensor so he can’t even _begin_ to feel Sakura’s chakra and see how she’s doing.

“Well,” an excited glint shines in her green eyes and Sakura grins, “it’s a good thing I was the top student in the Academy.” She flips her hair and Hashirama laughs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that technically Sakura's parents are shinobi, even though they only appear in road to ninja and her mom appears in one scene in the fourth shinobi war...but these introductions were so late and they're not referenced to being active shinobi any other time so I do feel comfortable calling them "civilians" for the purpose of this fic. And focusing on that "civilian" aspect of Sakura's background was one of the biggest missed points for character development for her IMO. In Sakura's graduating class literally *everyone* else is from a clan, most being clan heirs. With the emphasis put on clans and kekkei genkai, even if there wasn't push back to allow civilians to be trained as shinobi, there probably was a belief that they weren't as skilled as clan kids. It also gives her a clearer parallel to Lee (Tenten too!) because there was so much development for Lee and Sakura in the chunin arc and it just got thrown away. (This is the point where all of you realize I shipped LeeSaku before I knew what shipping was. For this fic, I'm probably not going to do any other romantic relationship besides hashimada, but it's still cute to me. They could have supported one another so much and helped each other grow!) 
> 
> RIP Yamato's "no more adoption" rule. 
> 
> I got a lot of Thoughts about the Senju being the clan of love but the Uchiha feeling "love" too deeply in canon, leading to different meanings of love between the two clans and how Madara's determination to follow through with EotM plan and Hashirama ultimately killing him at VotE were the tragic ends of following their clans' own meanings to the extremist ends and not finding compromise...but tbh all throughout his and Sakura's conversation this was what was going through my brain:
> 
> Hashirama: I am a perfectly normal human child. 
> 
> You, me, and literally everyone else side-eyeing him: You uh...you sure about that? 
> 
> I will say, no matter how OP any character is, they should always have weaknesses that can be exploited to beat them. I'm trying to keep the terrors OP but not...absurdly, world-breakingly so. Hashirama + no plants = very bad times. 
> 
> Little announcement. I am driving back to college (yay 17 hour road trip of death) and so the next chapter will be up on Sunday  
> January 31st and from now on updates will be on Sundays, bc that'll be easier for my schedule. Also, I probably will continue posting weekly updates instead of switching to dailies bc I forgot to account for how much looking for jobs sucked up my free time and I'm not as far into editing as I thought I'd be. Depending on my semester workload I may have to switch to bi-weekly updates but that should be at least another month away before things really pick up and I'll keep everyone posted!
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://mira--mira.tumblr.com/) for more content!
> 
> Thank you for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! It means a lot to me! <3  
> 


	7. Land of Waves: VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's adoption time everyone, ;) also featuring Tenzo's Dad skills shooting up to over 9000.
> 
> Chapter warnings: animal death (deer) and brief mentions of cleaning/butchering said animal.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Hashirama**

Together, Sakura helps him drag the hose to the tub. They’ve just thrown it in and lit the fire underneath so the water starts to warm when Madara returns. He’s dragging one older buck behind him, with a bloody-makeshift bag made from his shirt in his free hand.

“Hopefully you weren’t planning on using the hide,” Hashirama mutters, nudging the buck over to see the scraped raw sections of its fur. Madara’s already cleaned it, the buck is gutted and missing its entrails. He grumbles and shoves his ruined shirt-bag at Hashirama. That must be the heart and liver.

“I realized I didn’t have any proper way to haul it, alright? This is another reason a full-sized mantle would have been better,” he says under his breath, hands on his hips. “Get Sai to skin it. I’m going to go wash the blood off and find another shirt.” A good idea since even in the twilight Hashirama can see the dried blood caked on his hands and arms with one particular thick streak on his cheek.

 _Even cleaned up, he’s still probably going to scare the kids._ Especially if he just appears around of nowhere to round them up…

“Hey Sakura, you want to help Madara gather up some kids so we can feed and bathe them?” Hashirama asks, glancing back at her.

“So that’s your plan. I thought the bath was for you two…” she _looks_ at Hashirama, who suddenly finds the grass incredibly interesting as a flush spreads over his cheeks.

“Of course, it’s for us!” Madara snaps and Hashirama feels like bursting into flames and hugging him close at the same time. “It’s being repurposed for now is all. Actually…you going with me would probably be a good idea. That little girl will probably recognize you,” Madara taps his chin. “So? Are you coming?”

“After you wash the blood off and put on a shirt,” Sakura mutters.

Madara huffs and marches into the house, Hashirama and Sakura hot on his heels.

“Yamato-sensei,” Hashirama watches Madara veer into the kitchen and startle Tsunami who shrieks at seeing him, “Yamato-sensei could you…” Madara’s voice fades as Hashirama rushes up the stairs and to find Sai and Sakura lingers in the dining room.

**Tenzo**

“Yamato-sensei,” Tenzo turns around to see Madara, missing a shirt and covered in blood. Tsunami shrieks next to him, but this is not the first or last time Tenzo has seen this particular sight. At least this time, it’s not his own. He knows because there’s no Hashirama clinging to Madara, demanding he stay still so he could heal him. “Yamato-sensei could you help me with something? After you’re finished of course,” he snaps into a low bow, “and if you have the time. I don’t want to inconvenience you or make demands—”

“What can I help you with Madara?” Tenzo cuts him off gently, he’ll keep adding qualifiers for hours if Tenzo doesn’t.

“If you’re sure…”

“Yes.”

“Ah,” Madara straightens and scratches at the dried blood on his cheek, “I killed a buck, it’s out front. Could you make a proper stand and table so I can butcher it when I get back?” _Still wary of Hashirama and his splinters._ Tenzo fights back a smile.

“Of course. I could butcher it for you and start cooking to save time, if you’d like.”

“No, I couldn’t ask you to do that, Yamato-sensei. This is my plan and I didn’t inform you of it beforehand or get your approval,” he winces, “so I can’t ask you to invest any more of your time than necessary.”

“It’s fine, Madara,” Tenzo reaches out and ruffles his hair, “I think it’s great what you’re doing, I’d be happy to help.” All of his kids struggled with asking for help in some way. Sai because he was used to working alone, Hashirama because any authority was suspect, and Madara because it made him vulnerable.

“I was just going to make Sai help but if that’s what you want to do…” he shuffles, glancing at Tenzo and then the floor before awkwardly raising his arm.

Of the many ongoing things that still shocked Tenzo was Madara’s reception to touch and praise. He didn’t like to initiate as much as Hashirama and he wouldn’t fish for compliments like the other boy, but he actively sought them out, unlike Sai. Tenzo sees his arm and doesn’t hesitate to pull him close.

“Thank you, Yamato-sensei,” Madara mutters into his apron. It’s only when Tsunami laughs, a low gentle sound, that Madara breaks away with a flush on his cheeks and races upstairs to wash off.

“Tsunami-san, if you don’t mind…”

“No, not at all. Your sons are such sweet boys, even if they do come into my kitchen covered in blood,” she smiles as she lights the stove’s pilot light and pours oil in a pan.

Now it’s Tenzo who flushes lightly, scratching the back of his head.

“A-ah. Technically they’re my genin, not my—”

“I know the technicalities, but bond is stronger than blood, Yamato-san. It was the same for Inari and my…” she trails off, looking back at the photograph hanging on the dining room wall, one corner torn away. “It was the same.” She reaches up and dabs at her eyes. “I’ll put on extra rice, so the children have a proper meal and something other than meat.”

“If you’re sure…I wouldn’t want to take from your stores…” Tenzo trails off as she drags a large woven sack of rice from the pantry.

“Even when the bridge is finished, it won’t fix all our problems. If I’m honest, I’m surprised any shinobi, even a child, would think to feed and care for the children instead of working to complete their mission. It’s a relief to see compassion and kindness still exists.” She straightens up, dusting off her hands. Tsunami smiles and Tenzo is struck with the thought that they’re probably close in age. The Land of Waves had no shinobi, had no hidden village, but the Third War affected them too. What horrors had she seen from that time? The depravity and cruelty and echoed on such a large scale?

“They care a lot about children.” Even Sai did in his own way. Still impacted by ROOT’s conditioning, but there’s little he wouldn’t do for Shin. But Madara and Hashirama…

Even Tenzo hadn’t thought about reaching out to the Wave’s inhabitants. There were enough of them to guard Tazuna, especially if Team 13 was on rotation. They had time. But he hadn’t thought of it.

_“We walked through the city today and Madara saw all the hungry dirty kids.”_

They did. They saw the children once and their immediate reaction was to help. Hashirama and Madara both. For the first time Tenzo understands, beyond their exceptional power, how they reshaped the world from warring clans into a unified village.

Before Tenzo heads outside to butcher Madara’s buck, he goes upstairs to collect Sai. It’d be a good idea for him to help too and honestly the more people in between Hashirama and cooking, the better. Tenzo hears the shower running in the bathroom and low grumbling from inside the genins’ room.

 _What did they do now?_ Tenzo slides the door open only to meet face to face with Kakashi, upending the contents of Hashirama’s backpack onto the floor.

“Uh…Kakashi-senpai?”

Sai isn’t in the room. Tenzo hears muffled yelling from the front of the house and, with Madara cleaning up and Naruto and Sasuke still out training, there’s a _high_ likelihood it’s Hashirama and Sai getting into it again.

“Ma, ma, Yamato, don’t mind me. I think Naruto stole my socks. Don’t know what possessed him to do it, but you know how kids are. Get all sorts of crazy ideas from anywhere. _Anywhere._ Well, I don’t see them here, guess I’ll have to go hang him upside down by his ankles until he gives their location up.” Kakashi rambles before muscling past him, doing the closest he gets to sprinting as he slouches, hands in his pockets.

 _Socks? Who wears socks?_ Tenzo is frozen, trying to make sense of the jumbled-up words. _And that was Hashirama’s bag, not Naruto’s._ Though, to be fair, they look nearly identical. Madara’s too because he refused to give Hashirama any more money for the expensive brightly colored ones with prints after he spent three months’ worth of money on something in Suna and fronted the payment for their then still ongoing mission to buy and transport _cacti_ from the region.

Tenzo has seen their apartment, post-cacti. It’s a minefield of spikes with pages of hastily drawn angry expressions that all bore a _striking_ resemblance to Madara stuck on the spines.

Only another loud shout from outside snaps Tenzo back to himself and he slowly shuts the door, deciding not to think about it further. He grabs an armful of towels and soap from the linen closet and heads outside before Hashirama and Sai can maul each other.

Sure enough, he pries a seething Sai from a smirking Hashirama, setting them far apart and swiping the scroll from Hashirama’s hand as he does so.

“You,” he lays his hand on Hashirama’s hand and turns him until he’s facing an empty patch of ground, “build a fire pit and set up some torches.” The sun had fully set and the moon was beginning to rise. “And you,” he does the same with Sai, who tolerates being turned around even less, “help me skin and butcher the buck. We’re on cooking duty.”

“Oh, Yamato-sensei, you want this?” Hashirama turns back around and holds up a bloody bag that Tenzo only recognizes as Madara’s shirt from the stained uchiwa.

“Please don’t tell me you carried that in the house.”

“Uh…”

“Did you drip blood on Tsunami-san’s clean floors?”

“Uh…” Hashirama’s eyes dart back and forth. He shoves the bag at Sai and runs off.

Tenzo sighs and takes the bag from an offended Sai, who doesn’t miss his chance to rub his bloody hands clean on Tenzo’s shirt. In an attempt to not completely destroy Tazuna’s small yard, Tenzo keeps the table and stand small. He sets down the towels and shirt-bag. Sai fetches the running hose and buckets as Tenzo drags the buck to the stand to skin it. Torches light around them as Hashirama raises them and grumbles about having to struggle with flint rocks instead of using Madara’s katons.

By the time all seven torches are up and the yard is brightly lit, Madara remerges from the house, no longer bloody and with a shirt, Sakura by his side. With a wave, they dart towards the darkened village and Tenzo and the two boys start working on the buck. Hashirama is…terrible at cooking. But as long as he’s not in charge of cutting the meat from the buck it should be fine. Tenzo carefully places himself between them and any time they start to lean around him to mess with the other, he makes a scary face to keep them back in line.

It works…just not as intended. Anytime he tries to make himself look vaguely threatening, Hashirama laughs so hard he snorts and Sai stares up at him blankly until one of them breaks and blinks, ending their impromptu staring contest.

The buck is skinned and butchered without incident. The first of the steaks are put over the fire just as Naruto stumbles out of the woods. He stops and stares at them, picking a twig from his hair.

“Uh, what’re you guys doin’?”

“Community service,” Tenzo smiles as he pulls Hashirama’s hand away from the cooking food. Tenzo’s watching over it carefully, but Hashirama’s cooking curse could strike at any moment. This time it’d be most likely smacking the pan and upending the steaks into the fire itself.

“Uh…”

“Madara and Sakura went to round up some of the street kids. We’re gonna help them.” Hashirama smiles brightly and the confusion clears from Naruto’s face. “How’d your tree-climbing go?” Hashirama asks as Naruto settles onto the ground next to him. Appeased that Hashirama’s not about to accidentally destroy the food, Tenzo turns to watch Sai. And then promptly grabs his hand before he can lean around and jab Naruto in the side with a brush.

Sai looks up at him with a pout, but it’s more of a grimace compared to Hashirama’s perfected kicked puppy look.

“Not bad, I’m neck and neck with Sasuke-bastard but I haven’t reached the top of the tree yet,” Naruto scowls at the fire.

“Ooh and now you’re giving up?” Sai asks with a grin. Naruto rounds on him and Tenzo sighs, pulling Sai firmly to his side and covering his mouth.

“NO! I’m just done for the night is all, I’m tired and almost out of chakra. Madara-sensei said if I don’t sleep and recover, I might as well be destroyin’ all my progress.” Naruto says through a yawn.

“Hah! So he does listen to me.” Hashirama crosses his arms with a self-satisfied smile.

“Whaddya mean?”

“I used to tell Madara that, especially when he’d push himself until he dropped from exhaustion. Then I’d lecture him all about his health and he’d ignore me and I’d put him a lightly induced medical coma—”

“You did _what?_ ” Tenzo interrupts. He can’t think of any time Hashirama dragged an unconscious Madara around or gave him a specific lecture about sleep, though god knew he lectured Sai and Madara both about their health just as much as Madara lectured him on his money spending habits.

“I said _lightly_ , he wasn’t out more than an hour or two, it was a _before_ thing,” Hashirama waves him off, “and after about four naps or so and, admittedly a lot, of prodding I even got him to admit I was right and he should sleep more.”

Tenzo pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath in an effort to ward off his building headache.

“Well, I’m goin’ in to get dinner then sleep,” Naruto stands up but glances back to the forest, “um, Sasuke-bastard was still tree climbing when I left, just so you know.” Naruto jabs his thumb backward and Tenzo smiles, daring to release Sai for a second so he can flip the steaks.

“I’ll be sure to check on him before I go to bed, Naruto.” Tenzo smiles tightly and grabs Sai once again before he can trip Naruto as he heads back into the house.

After the first strips of deer steak are finished and Tsunami brings out the rice and cutlery, Madara and Sakura return, nine children in tow. Most crowd around Sakura, holding her hands and clinging to her dress. A few linger behind them and Madara carries one little girl whose right leg is horribly atrophied and a deep mottled purple and black color. They’re all tiny. Grasping fingers, hollowed cheeks, and dead, dead eyes. Hardly any react to the fire, Tenzo and the boys, or anything around them. It’s only when Madara sets the little girl down and hands her a bowl of rice with a few bits of deer steak they respond.

“You weren’t…you weren’t lying…” one of the older boys, no more than eight, says in a hoarse whisper as Sakura hands him a bowl.

“It’s really…for us?”

“Food?”

“We can have it?”

Tenzo stands and helps pass out bowls. It’s only small portions, some of them look so starved they couldn’t keep down more than a few bites of rice let alone an entire bowl with meat. They look like Madara, Tenzo thinks as he gently touches an older girl’s shoulder. Most have dark hair and eyes. Their skin is darker than his, but the look of hunger and desperation…

It’s only now with such a close comparison that Tenzo realizes how much Madara has improved. After months his ribs don’t press against his skin, threatening to tear free. The dark circles under his eyes are back to an Uchiha normal instead of the deep sunken rings that dominated his face.

Tenzo hands the girl her bowl and gently rubs her shoulder as she stares down at the food, unmoving for several long seconds.

“Am I asleep? The dream always ends before I can take a bite…” her voice is scratchy and Tenzo gently hands her a cup of water too.

“It’s not a dream.”

He stays by her side until she eats the first bite and slow tears slide from the corner of her eyes, making streaks on her dirt-stained face. He looks around to see all nine children with a small bowl and Hashirama kneeling next to the girl Madara carried in, glowing green hands wrapped around her leg as Madara runs his hand through her spiky hair. In the firelight, he can see a long piece of glass embedded in Madara’s shoulder and Tenzo pushes down the swell of panic.

Sai is frozen in his original spot, looking around at the starving dirty kids with wide eyes. When Tenzo stands, Sai’s eyes snap to his and stay. _ROOT never stays past their missions._ He’s probably never been around so many younger civilian children either. Tenzo sits back down by his side, sitting close enough that Sai has an excuse to lean into him, trembling faintly. Tenzo keeps his eyes on Madara and Hashirama and breathes a quiet sigh of relief when Hashirama finishes healing the little girl’s leg and turns to Madara, reaching for his shoulder and the glass shard.

Even after they eat, most of the children are too disassociated to interact. Those with serious injuries are immediately directed to Hashirama to be healed. Those with less serious ones go with Madara and Sakura to be washed down first. Tenzo and Sai take their dirty clothes and while the children sit drying off next to the fire, wrapped in towels, they wash and scrub the clothes clean.

Tsunami brings out blankets and every extra futon they have in the house. She waves off any concerns Tenzo brings up about carving up their small yard, so he makes a small wooden platform they can lay the blankets out on and stretch a tarp over the top so the children don’t feel trapped but have some protection from the cool breeze coming off the sea.

Madara dries the newly cleaned clothing with careful use of a katon and Hashirama starts to mend the rips and tears as Sakura and Sai, with a little prompting from Tenzo, refill bowls and cups with another small portion.

It takes a while to prompt the children into the small shelter. Most cling to their spots around the campfire, afraid that the ‘dream’ will end if they choose to lay down and sleep. Eventually, as the night wears on, exhaustion wins out. Tenzo and Hashirama carry them gently over to the blankets and futons until all but the little girl with the injured leg Madara was carrying is left. She’s not the youngest, that would be the boy who held up three solemn fingers when Tenzo asked how old he was, but she’s small.

Small and covered in scars. They wrap around her tiny stick-thin arms, angry and pink that suggest they’re recent, not old. Though there’s only so ‘old’ any scar can be for a six-year-old. Tatsuki, a name that had been growled at him when Tenzo asked, is clinging to Madara’s shirt eyeing all of them with one distrustful black eye. The other, her left, is milky and blind. That side is pressed carefully into Madara for protection.

“Don’t you want to stretch out in a nice warm blanket, Tatsuki?” Sakura asks sweetly, smiling at the little girl. She growls, pulling back her lips to reveal sharp, serrated teeth.

“No.”

“You’re tired. Go to sleep.” Sai tries in his own way, pointing at the makeshift shelter.

“No.”

Tenzo chooses not to say anything, confident that eventually, she would succumb.

She does not.

Madara and Hashirama are pressed together, propping each other up. Hashirama’s already asleep and starting to snore. Madara’s eyes keep fluttering closed with longer and longer periods between blinks. Sakura refused to go inside until Tatsuki went down, but now she’s splayed out next to the crackling fire, muttering in her sleep. Sai is still awake and currently in a staring contest with Tatsuki. The only ground the little girl conceded was bracing her bare feet on Hashirama’s leg when he sidled up next to Madara. Besides that, she’s in the same position she’s been in since sitting down for her second dinner portion.

“Tatsuki,” Tenzo yawns, covering his mouth, “you’re safe here. _Please_ , go to sleep.” She doesn’t respond and it isn’t until later when Sai collapses, dead to the world, and Tenzo is fighting to keep his eyes open because he was not in the right mental space to stay up all night that he realizes…she’s sleeping with her eyes open.

He falls backward, unconscious, just as the sun rises and a rooster starts to call.

**Sasuke**

Sasuke wakes just as the girl reaches for his throat. His hand snaps around her wrist and yanks it to the side.

“Who are you?!” He scrambles into a sitting position, reaching for the lax kunai by his side. _Stupid, stupid!_ He fell asleep out here in the forest after the dobe had gone back, confident that he could make enough progress to reach the top of the tree by the time Naruto returned.

He hadn’t.

He’d gotten closer. Pulled ahead of Naruto, but not by much. Not by enough. Sakura had beat them both but after asking her and Madara for help…Naruto stayed neck and neck with him the entire day. He refused to lose to that loser!

But he’d fallen asleep and now there’s a strange girl glaring at him, dark circles under her hazel eyes.

“I could ask the same,” she yanks her hand away and scoots back, rubbing her wrist, “I try and wake you up before you catch or a cold or a wild animal finds you and this is how I’m treated?”

She looks harmless enough. She’s not dressed for combat; she’s wearing a short sleeve pink kimono and has a basket half-full of plants by her side. Even better she’s not fawning over him or acting like the girls in the Academy.

“Sorry,” Sasuke mutters and looks away, “but you shouldn’t wake a sleeping ninja.” He raises his chin and tries to put as much authority in his voice as possible.

“Some ninja who falls asleep in the middle of the forest all alone, completely unprotected…”

“I was training!” The girl’s eyes dart to his carved-up tree and she raises one eyebrow, unimpressed. “Yeah, well what do _you_ know? You’re a civilian.” Sasuke huffs and stands, turning away from the girl before glancing back at her. “Why are you here anyway?” It dawns on him that she might not be a shinobi, but that doesn’t mean she’s not an enemy. Gato is rich, he has plenty of henchmen, who’s to say he wouldn’t hire an unassuming girl?

“Gathering healing herbs,” she points at her basket but her other hand clenches into a tight bloodless fist in her lap. “Someone precious to me was badly injured. I’m doing everything I can to help him get better as soon as possible,” tears well in her eyes.

Sasuke shifts uneasily on his feet.

“Do you have someone precious to you? Is that why you’re out here training?” She looks up at him and he freezes. Someone precious… _that_ night flashes in his mind, _his_ eyes, _his_ bloodied blade—

Sasuke jerks back to himself and shakes his head.

“Then do you have someone you hate? Who tried to take your precious person away?” Her hazel eyes are hollow, expression monstrously serene.

Sasuke swallows and barely manages a hoarse, “yeah.”

“Me too. It’s a new feeling, one I’m not used to yet.” The girl stands and smiles, but it doesn’t reach her hollow eyes. A shiver races down his spine and Sasuke hates how even here with this powerless civilian girl he suddenly feels weak and vulnerable.

“Hey!! Sasuke-bastard! Are you dead?!” The weird mood shatters and they both turn to see Naruto racing towards them, screaming and shouting, only to come to a sudden stop. He nearly trips over his own two feet as he stares at the girl, a bright blush on his cheeks. “Look I don’t care if you wanna sneak away to spend some time alone with a cute girl but you gotta signal that so everyone doesn’t think you’re dead!” Naruto huffs, glancing away.

 _He thinks…_ Sasuke feels a vein start to pulse on his temple.

The girl laughs, picking up her basket. For the first time, her expression turns warm.

“I’m a boy,” she… _he_ smiles and walks past Naruto.

“Oh, um,” Naruto looks between them both and Sasuke is already preparing himself for the next dumb thing to come out of his mouth, “is it like…an Uchiha thing? Because Madara-sensei—”

“Shut. Up.”

“What? It’s not like _I_ gotta problem with it! And my point still stands, if you wanna sneak away to spend some time alone with a cute boy you gotta signal that so everyone doesn’t think you’re dead!” Naruto continues on and Sasuke lowers his head, wondering what he did to deserve this.

**Haku**

The healing herbs aren’t enough.

Haku knew this before he went out to pick them, but he had to do something. Zabuza lays, fevered and unconscious, in their hideout. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Haku was in the trees, ready to take down Tazuna while Zabuza distracted the Konoha nin. They had done hundreds of jobs like this since they and their small band of revolutionaries were driven out of Kirigakure.

There was nothing special about the Land of Waves or targeting Tazuna so _why_ …

Why did those monsters show up?

Haku shudders, forcing his hands still as he changes Zabuza’s bandages and layers the medical paste on his wounds. He was almost too slow…any slower and Zabuza would be dead. His dream broken and unfulfilled. Haku’s purpose lost. He couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t.

He steps back after the last bandage is tied and takes a deep breath. He knows what he has to do.

The Demon Brothers had been killed, Zabuza was near death and wouldn’t recover for _months_ at this rate. Those masked monsters might be aligned with Konoha, but that didn’t matter now. What mattered was they’d were probably lying in wait and Gato was getting impatient. Haku had broken his arm earlier today and drove him and his thugs off for disparaging Zabuza.

If they didn’t kill Tazuna, they wouldn’t get paid.

Losing money was better than losing Zabuza but he’d never forgive Haku if he tried to take his injured body and run. They’d lose all credibility for future work too.

It left him with few options.

Haku knows, deep in his bones, in the ice flowing in his veins, that those monsters would kill them. In their current state, Zabuza down and Haku alone, death was inevitable. He has to even the playing field.

Haku ties the message around the hawk’s foot with instructions to pass along to Shiori. They had fled from Kirigakure as a group., twenty-four revolutionaries. Tools for Zabuza to use to fulfill his dream. Haku is his partner, his right hand, his ultimate weapon, his masterpiece but there are others dedicated to their cause as well, doing their part to earn money so they could return to Kirigakure and overthrow the Bloody Tyrant.

The hawk screeches before taking off. It would take nearly a week for it to reach Shiori and for her to gather everyone together and return. Haku pushes down any pity or regret that summoning the others will definitely result in those Konoha kids’ deaths.

But there was still the issue of Zabuza’s arms. Haku peeks back to where he lays stiffly on the bed. The arm the quicker monster tore into might recover in time. Haku has enough medical knowledge and knows where to find drugs that would suppress pain and quicken healing but it’d still be weak, barely able to wield Kubikiribōchō.

The other arm…

He stemmed the bleeding and set the bone as best he could but it looked like the arm had been nearly severed as the stronger monster violently split his ulna and radius. A professional was needed. A _miracle_ was needed. There was no one capable of that in the Land of Waves. Haku knew of several miracle workers but only a few were accessible to rogue-nin like them.

If they weren’t bound to Gato’s contract, he might be desperate enough to search for the Sannin herself. Tsunade, despite her birth, was rumored to take coin from shinobi of any land, of any status. The issue was finding her.

If he was suicidal, there was Otogakure.

But the snake traded in favors, not money. And being indebted to a man like Orochimaru would be unacceptable to Zabuza, he’d never forgive Haku. It was still better than his death. Haku would be nothing without his master. If Zabuza survived and cast him off for this betrayal it would be a better fate than the one they were currently hurdling towards.

There still is one other option before the snake.

Haku sighs and moves away from the window. He writes his request on a small scroll, seals it with his chakra, and ties it to a large pouch stuffed with every last ryo he can find.

_This is for Zabuza._

Zabuza’s life is worth any price but it still makes his heart ache to gather almost two years of their hard work and give it away. He checks Zabuza’s bandages one last time before he goes, watching his master’s eyes screw up in tight pain.

Haku finds the tree after an hour of searching the Wave’s central forest. The country’s far enough south its forests are mostly deciduous, unlike the sparse snowy ever-greens of his birthplace. At first, the willow looks like a normal tree. It’s only when he draws closer that he can see the carving on its trunk, smooth and round.

He brushes past the drooping branches and runs his hand over it. The carving hums with power, a faint unfamiliar chakra signature left in place. Haku takes out a kunai and ties it to his request and money. This is the first time he’s called on this particular group, but every rogue-nin knows the simple ritual. It will be found and read, only those with a death wish would disturb the tree.

Haku plunges his kunai into the bark, into the very center of the carving. Red syrup, thick and unnatural, seeps out and stains the cloud red. The Akatsuki will answer, he'll know in three days’ time.

_This is for Zabuza’s dream._

Quick drawing of Tatsuki. Madara had the tables turned on him and she "stole" one of his shirts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's gonna show up? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> You thought this was *just* going to be a fun fluffy chapter but, surprise! Sasuke is Not Thinking about his trauma rn, and Haku is pulling out the big guns, even if it is just for healing. (also, I know it's not The Word of God, but the wiki tells me Zabuza left "with a group" and counted the Demon Brothers and implies more which makes a lot more sense if you're trying to overthrow someone, just saying)
> 
> Tatsuki is the only reoccurring OC I have planned for this fic bc there are a couple of ideas that I want to explore that are easier to do with a character created for that purpose rather than shoe-horning in a random canon kid. This will...admittedly make more sense in a couple of chapters. Also a way to add more girls, always a plus. And I'm just saying if Madara and Hashirama were 15 years older people would look at them, look at Tatsuki, look back at them, look back at her and start making bets on whether serrated teeth are a recessive trait on the Senju or Uchiha side. The Uchiha are just too obvious an answer so there's quite a few betting on the Senju.
> 
> The next chapter will be posted on Sunday February 7th. 
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://mira--mira.tumblr.com/) for more content!
> 
> Thank you for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! I'm all settled back down for college. I always forget how much the drive kills me so I haven't had time to respond to long comments for last chapter (first on my to-do list tomorrow!) but I appreciate you guys all so much! <3


	8. Land of Waves: VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I was editing this chapter I decided midway through that I actually hated everything and rewrote almost all of it and scrambled some more POVs. This is, in part, bc it's the first Sakura POV and gets into some canon-divergence/not canon compliant material by explaining the mechanics of chakra control as well as how I wrestled and explained the idea that shinobi are human (see all the ways one can die) but can perform superhuman feats that should kill them (see getting thrown through solid rock/wielding strength and speed that should be deadly.) 
> 
> I'll mention it here because Madara and Hashirama don't explicitly bring it up but...I think there's a decent amount of overlap between chakra control and the 8 gates. And specifically for this story, opening the first 2 gates does not have a negative impact on the user. In fact, it's quite necessary to perform at a mid/elite jonin standard. The first gate: opening, removes inhibition and allows the user to access enough chakra to perform the superhuman feats (strength, speed, etc.). The better chakra control you have the more power you can harness. This is how Hashirama and Tsunade access their "monstrous strength." The second gate: healing lets them recover from exhaustion but also allows the user enough chakra to infuse it in their limbs and increase durability (so their bodies can handle the insane strength/speed and get thrown through those rocks). This is just A Normal Thing for Hashirama and Madara, they don't know it's the 8 gates and neither of them has access to the higher gates. 
> 
> Also, quick note, I'm not a fan of "Inner Sakura" truth be told, and I interpreted it here strictly as "what Sakura thinks vs. what she says" kind of thing rather than a separate personality/mental illness. Sakura was raised to be polite and courteous, but her inner dialogue isn't quite that. Next to Madara, she's the character that swears the most 😂 If you have any thoughts on her characterization here if it's working or not, let me know! I've been staring at these words for too long and I'm overthinking all of them.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Sakura**

Team 13 is _fucking weird_ , Sakura decides when she wakes up on the hard ground, stiff and cold. Weirder than Team 7 and that was a _real_ accomplishment with the likes of Kakashi and Naruto on her team…Sasuke too if she’s being honest. It wouldn’t _kill him_ to have a full goddamn conversation instead of communicating in grunts!

Team 13 is also terrifying. Honestly terrifying in a way that makes Sakura stiffen and still because all of them were too comfortable with death and she can _feel_ the vast disparity between them. After the chunin ambush, Sakura thought long and hard about it. She was afraid of death. Of killing, of being killed. She was scared of the pain, of leaving behind her parents and Ino.

But doing nothing and avoiding the problem wasn’t the answer. Being a poorly trained kunoichi would only make those fears a reality. Zabuza made that clear. And if she chose to quit now, she’d just be proving all the kids who told her a civilian girl could only be weak and useless right.

Team 13 is weird and terrifying but for the first time, Sakura sees a clear path forward. Even if it is a path that predominately features a sensei with the single worst haircut known to man.

Sakura pushes herself up and looks over to find their doll-eyed sensei flat on his back. The younger bloodless boy is so still Sakura thinks he’s dead until she pokes him with a stick and he twitches.

She turns her head to look at the last two, and nearly shrieks when Tatsuki’s eyes meet hers. _How is she still awake?_ Sakura wanted to put her in the blanket fort with the others, she was a really cute kid in the same way Mr. Snuggles, Sakura’s huge fluffy semi-feral cat, was. It just tugged on her heartstrings. But Tatsuki refused and she was _not_ losing a battle of wills with a six-year-old. She fought Ino in an epic battle of ten days and nine nights for the last seafoam green kunoichi nail polish and emerged victorious, she wasn’t losing this battle!

She lost the battle.

Now, Sakura inches closer to the two lovebirds and feral child. The feral child does not react. Sakura squints at her and waves her hand in front of the girl’s one seeing eye. No reaction.

_She’s sleeping with her eyes open! Goddammit!_

The early morning peace, minus Sakura’s stewing, doesn’t last for long. Naruto bursts out of Tazuna’s house, slamming the door behind him.

“Sasuke didn’t come back last night! Did you guys see him? You think he’s dead?!” He yells and then ducks as Madara, who Sakura _swore_ had been dead to the world, whips a kunai at him. The kunai sheers off a bit of hair as it thuds down to the hilt in Tazuna’s house behind Naruto.

“Wha…” Madara shifts, pushing himself up and away from Hashirama. Tatsuki growls under her breath—cute!—and sinks her fingers into his shirt. Madara sees Naruto and flops back against Hashirama, dragging a hand down his face. “Fuck…Naruto. You okay?” He shouts and Naruto hesitantly straightens up.

“Sorry, Madara-sensei! Have you seen Sasuke? Did he come back? Kakashi-sensei said he might be dead in the woods!” Naruto races over to them, grabbing Madara’s shoulder and shaking it. “He can’t be dead! How am I going to beat a dead guy?!”

Sakura huffs and barely stops from rolling her eyes. Sasuke isn’t dead! He’s too strong to die.

Well…

She pushes any disagreeing thoughts into a mental box, with a mental lock, and throws it out a mental window, watches it crash down on a mental sidewalk, and explode. Mentally.

“He’s fine Naruto, I think he’s asleep,” Madara scrunches his nose in concentration. “If he’s not back after breakfast, you can go look for him.”

“But—”

“Breakfast first, I’ll keep an eye on his chakra,” Naruto grumbles but acquiesces. Madara stands, adjusting his grip on Tatsuki, and starts to wake his sensei up. Naruto does the same for Sai, but instead of Madara’s respectful shoulder tap, he steps on Sai. Straight on him. Right on his gut. Sakura watches as Sai grabs Naruto’s knee, sending them tumbling and rolling on the ground.

“Five hundred on Sai. Naruto’s stronger but Sai still has his brushes,” Hashirama mutters under his breath before his eyes dart to hers and a grin lights up his face. “Hey, hey Sakura you wanna _bet_ —”

He’s wrong, Madara is the winner.

Once Yamato sits up Madara shifts Tatsuki until she is riding on his back like a little monkey, and breaks Naruto and Sai apart, holding them up by their collars.

“It’s _breakfast_ time _._ We’re going to eat, and neither of you are going to ruin my meal because I didn’t have dinner last night and I’m _hungry_.” He smiles and it would have been less terrifying if every tooth had been replaced by senbon.

Yamato looks like a zombie crawled from its grave and zipped itself up in his skin, but he’s up and walking. They warm the leftovers from the night before while Sakura and Hashirama wake up the other kids in the pillow fort.

The kids eat and most dart off as soon as they finish without looking back. Hashirama yells after them to come back tonight and bring their friends. Eventually, only Tatsuki is left.

Tatsuki more or less has to stay with her leg. Sakura isn’t a medic-nin but it looked beyond repair last night. She hadn’t ever seen something so bruised and infected before, only on TV and in her textbooks. Hashirama healed it but her right leg is shrunken and small compared to her left. She can’t walk.

“Healing has limits. Her leg was broken before it got cut up and infected, so it had been in an atrophying state for a while. She’ll have to build up the muscles again by herself, I can’t do that.” He explained last night when Sakura asked. Medical ninjutsu wasn’t a major subject in the Academy but that made sense.

But the sadder, more telling thing, was none of the other kids tried to help her. The older boy and girl snatched the younger two that couldn’t keep up with them, but no one so much as looked back at Tatsuki.

Sakura’s not surprised.

Last night when she and Madara were looking for kids, they tried to tug him away from going down Tatsuki’s alley, whispering that a terrifying monster lived there. Sakura stayed behind with the other kids, holding their hands and reassuring them Madara would be alright. Madara and Hashirama almost killed _Zabuza_ , there’s no way a ‘monster’ would do him in, but she kept that thought to herself like Kakashi told her too. She doesn’t know what exactly happened in the alley, only that Madara came back, Tatsuki calmly in his arms and a piece of broken glass jabbed into his shoulder.

Madara was gentle with Tatsuki and any other kid brave enough to get near him and grab at his shirt. It was unexpected. Sakura didn’t think their new temporary teammates would hurt them, they were all Konoha nin after all, but Madara was the scariest one on their team. She hadn’t forgotten his duel with Sasuke. How Sasuke, the number one rookie, the best genin of their year, couldn’t touch him. It made sense considering the Zabuza situation, but still. Madara was…unnerving. It was his eyes. He had a bad habit of making direct, aggressive eye contact with whoever he was speaking to. To see him so gentle with the street kids was shocking and Sakura didn’t do a good job hiding her surprise from him even in the poorly lit streets.

“Don’t tell anyone about this,” Madara hissed at her, cheeks flushed red. Even embarrassed he stared her down as he spoke.

“What that you’re a giant bleeding heart?”

Madara’s horrified spluttering killed any serious remaining trepidation Sakura had. He thought he was _tough._ Powerful, sure, but tough? No. Not when Tatsuki wrapped one arm around his neck, called him ‘nii-chan’ and he looked seconds away from tears.

It grounds Madara, makes him feel more human and puts Sakura at ease. It’s still comforting now, watching him fuss over Tatsuki and her food before he starts eating his own.

“Sasuke-bastard’s still not here! I’m gonna go look for him!” Naruto announces, setting his empty bowl down with a clack and marching off into the forest. Sakura thinks about going with him, she hasn’t seen Sasuke’s cute face since yesterday morning, but there’s something more important she wants to do now.

“Hey, Hashirama, let’s train after breakfast today!” Kakashi will still be resting and she’ll just be put on Tazuna guard duty otherwise. And while it’s nice to _finally_ have a bit of real responsibility, she needs to keep working. If Naruto and Sasuke master tree climbing, she needs to already be halfway finished with something else!

“What, _I_ don’t get to be called Hashirama-sensei?” He looks up from staring besottedly at Madara to pout. _Not in love my ass._

“You were the one who said you weren’t a teacher.” He flops against Madara, sniffling.

“Stop acting so depressed,” Madara snaps as Tatsuki reaches out and jabs Hashirama’s cheek.

“You two do know you can’t just take all of Kakashi-senpai’s students, right? He’s their jonin, not you.” Yamato levels them with a disapproving look but it’s not effective. Hashirama grins, smile fake as pyrite coins, and Madara mutters something about having nothing to do with this under his breath. “Do I need to be concerned with you and Sasuke, Sai?”

“Only that I’ll shave off his eyebrows in his sleep.”

Weird. They’re all fucking _weird_ _._

The next few days follow a set schedule. Sakura, always one to like a good schedule, finds her impulsive decision to rant to Hashirama and then ask him to teach her chakra control pays off quite well even with a few bumps along the way.

Team 7 and 13, besides Naruto and Sasuke, set up a schedule for guarding Tazuna. They take shifts so no one group is there for the entire time like she, Madara, and Hashirama were on the first day. Through pleading, crying, and overall general impressive emotional manipulation on Hashirama’s part, the schedule is set that her and Hashirama’s ‘off times’ coincide with Madara’s.

Hashirama starts her training immediately after breakfast, just like she asked, but it’s never just the two of them. Madara, and subsequently Tatsuki, are always one step behind them and with Madara usually comes Naruto. Sakura half-thinks Sai would join them too if he wasn’t on Tazuna guarding duty with Yamato.

At first, Sakura worries that other people with them is going to mean Hashirama will ignore her in favor of the others, just like the senseis at the Academy did. They were so quick to praise Sakura for her studying and test scores only to walk away or overlook her when she tried to ask for practical help.

But as weird as Hashirama is, and he’s _definitely_ the weirdest one of Team 13, he keeps his word.

“Ok, so chakra control is all about mastering and directing the energy in your body,” Hashirama starts to explain. They’re in a small clearing in the forest, not too far from the place they did their tree-climbing exercise. Naruto wandered back after breakfast and going off to find Sasuke, muttering under his breath. Sakura’s paying attention to Hashirama, but she’s distracted by her teammate and by Madara yanking off a branch full of leaves from the tree above them. “It’s a pretty simple concept to grasp but extremely hard to master. Your tree-climbing exercise was a basic example—”

“But Kakashi-sensei said it’d let us master super powerful jutsu!” Naruto interrupts as Madara jumps down from the tree, branch in hand. He picks up Tatsuki and lets her climb on his back.

“Shut up, let him talk!” Naruto’s _not_ going to ruin this for her!

“I mean…it kinda will?” Hashirama scratches the back of his head. “Chakra control is needed in _all_ branches of ninjutsu and genjutsu, even some taijutsu. The better you are at it, the more you can manage your chakra so you _can_ perform stronger techniques and build stamina but it’s not like tree climbing or water walking is super hard or will directly result in super-strong jutsu.” Naruto crosses his arm with a huff. “Anyway, I think it’ll be easier to show you mastery than just talk about it. Presenting the Leaf Concentration Exercise!” Hashirama grins and sticks out his hand. Madara passes him the branch full of leaves.

Sakura watches as he plucks one off and slaps it to his forehead. It sticks.

“Oh, oh! Iruka-sensei used to make us do that as punishment!”

Hashirama freezes and sinks to the ground, gloomy. “Punishment? This is the one good idea Butsuma ever had, it’s fun.” Beside him, Madara sighs and takes the branch back. He walks towards her and Naruto and pulls two leaves off.

“Concentrate and try to make the leaf stick to your forehead.” He passes them each one.

“Me too? I thought we were gonna start on katons today,” Naruto pouts and slaps the leaf to his forehead. It immediately falls off.

“You heard, Hashirama. This is good general practice. You don’t have good chakra control so you end up wasting chakra on every technique. Eventually, the Uzumaki chakra reserves will run out and then you’ll be stuck until you learn how to do this properly.” Madara lectures as Sakura holds the leaf to her forehead. She closes her eyes, focusing on the feel of it. Slowly, she gathers her chakra at that point. It clings to the leaf and holds it close. She lowers her hand and the leaf stays. Success!

“I did it, now what?” Sakura glances at Madara, who’s still lecturing, Tatsuki copying his expression and waving her hand around and then at Hashirama, who still looks curled up and depressed.

“Sakura-chan, how are you so good at this?” Naruto whines and slaps the leaf on again. It falls off.

“Add a second one,” Madara hands her another leaf and Sakura goes to put it next to the first. “No, on your arm or leg. Somewhere different.”

It’s…harder. Sakura sticks the second leaf to her arm and tries to focus on her chakra. She feels it when her concentration for the first starts to slip and barely manages to keep it in place. It’s a stop and go process, trying to focus enough on the second leaf to get it to stick without losing the first. Eventually, she manages to get both leaves stuck to her skin but it’s tiring trying to focus on both points and manage the exact flow of chakra.

“Good,” Madara praises and Sakura perks up, “now do a third,” and she deflates.

The third is impossible. She sits down on the ground to properly stretch out her legs and sticks it on her kneecap. But trying to divert her chakra to a third separate place on her body is too much. She loses concentration and the leaf on her forehead and arm both fall off.

Sakura scowls and puts them back in place, but the third leaf is always just beyond her grasp. It doesn’t matter if she attaches the first two on her leg and arm and the third on her forehead, or any other combination, she just can’t concentrate and get her chakra to divert to the third leaf.

Sweat is dripping down her forehead and she feels nearly breathless by the time she lets all three leaves drop to look up. Naruto has managed to get the first leaf stuck on his forehead, but it falls off before he can even try and stick the second on his arm. Madara is sitting on the ground, back to back with Hashirama, who’s still bent over and gloomy. Madara’s absently watching them but he’s more focused on Tatsuki. She’s copying Naruto and Sakura, holding a leaf to her forehead only to scowl at it as it flutters to the ground.

“Not easy is it?” His black eyes dart to her own and Sakura shakes her head, twisting the stem of a leaf between her fingers.

“No…” this is what she wants, but it still makes her itchy and uncomfortable that she can’t get it right away. Studying was easy. The books had all the answers and Sakura just had to memorize them. Her room is filled with post-its and study tips, memorization tricks, and review notes. Tree-climbing hadn’t been a problem for her because unlike the one idiot and one cute idiot on her team, she _had_ read a book about focusing chakra on the soles of one’s feet to climb trees and walk on water. But there is no book for this, or if there is it’s back in Konoha not here.

Madara nods, as if he’s satisfied with something, before twisting around to shake Hashirama’s shoulder.

“Come on, stop acting so depressed Hashirama.”

“No, I’m going to be depressing, just like my leaf exercise,” he curls further over his knees.

 _Drama queen._ Sakura can’t help but roll her eyes. He sounds like one of mother’s favorite overly dramatic actors.

“You haven’t even finished the exercise,” Madara scolds and Hashirama fully flops on the ground with a groan.

“You’ll have to go on without me.”

Madara scoffs, pulls off another leaf, and smacks it on Hashirama’s forehead.

“Ow! Not so rough!”

Madara ignores him and reaches back to pull Tatsuki close. He plucks another leaf and puts it on Hashirama’s chest and that’s the only signal Tatuski needs to start pulling off leaves by the handful and scattering them all over Hashirama’s prone body. She strips the branch bare in less than a minute.

“Behold, the world’s first walking tree,” Madara drawls and Hashirama jumps to his feet, a blinding grin on his face.

 _Weirdos._ Is Sakura’s first thought. _Holy shit._ Is her second, because all of the leaves are sticking to him. There’s at least thirty and he’s still able to move around.

“This,” Hashirama gestures to himself, “is an intermediate example of chakra control. The ability to manipulate your chakra finely enough that you can concentrate it in multiple places and still move around.” He plucks one of the many leaves from his chest and bends down to attach it effortlessly to his leg.

“What would an expert example look like?” Sakura asks, squeezing the stem of her leaf tightly in her hands.

“With the leaf exercise?” Hashirama taps his chin before lighting up again. “Watch,” he plucks off another leaf and lets it float to the ground, “now you pull one off.” He crouches between her and Naruto and extends both of his arms.

Naruto wastes no time in reaching towards him. He grabs a leaf but he _can’t pull it off._ Hashirama doesn’t budge, not even a little. Naruto tries to yank with all his might but the leaf won’t separate from his skin. It doesn’t even rip.

Sakura looks at the arm closest to her and reaches out. She doesn’t bother trying to pull one off. Instead, she pinches a leaf and tries as hard as she can to rip it in half. She can’t. The leaves all feel normal but they might as well be made out of steel.

“You’re pushing your own chakra into the leaves, not just sticking them to your skin,” Sakura says as Naruto keeps fruitlessly trying to rip a leaf off. He’s on his back, bracing both feet against Hashirama’s thigh to give himself more leverage and still failing.

“Yep! It’s good practice before you start manipulating the chakra in your own limbs otherwise, you won’t know how to properly do it and there’s a pretty good chance you’ll shatter your bones or blow a limb off when you try to push beyond normal human capacity.” Hashirama finishes, a smile still of his face. Sakura shudders and holds her hands close to her chest. “This is more a medic thing but you should know it too,” he’s serious now, leaning closer to meet Sakura’s eyes, “you can push your own chakra into inanimate objects like leaves and weapons but _never_ push non-medical chakra into another person.”

“They’ll die?” Sakura asks. She hadn’t read about this, but it was the natural conclusion based on his warning.

“If you do too much, yeah. Some clans have special styles that involve pushing small amounts of their own chakra into their enemy’s bodies—”

“Fucking Hyuuga,” Madara mutters behind him.

“—but it’s a minuscule amount and they’re specially trained to do so. Pushing your own chakra into an ally’s body won’t heal them or restore their chakra reserves and if you’re not careful you’ll drain your own reserves and you’ll both die.”

“Now practice some more!” Hashirama says, cheery once again. He taps his fingers together and all the leaves drop from his body. Naruto goes tumbling back from the sudden release and lands in a pile of limbs with a groan.

Sakura’s practice over the next two days isn’t boring per se, but it’s close. She has her collection of leaves and still for the life of her can’t split her attention between three of them. Then the problem of having Hashirama as her teacher presents itself. He’s shit at explaining _how_ to do it. Demonstrating, not a problem. Even the overarching goals of chakra control, Sakura understands. But when she asks him _how_ to split her attention between three leaves and build up more, she’s met with a blank face and a long drawn out ‘uhhhhhhh’ or ‘you just do it until you can do it’ his eyes blank and empty as Naruto’s during pop quizzes. Hashirama is very good at practical things, and absolutely terrible at theory beyond the basics. His explanations leave _much_ to be desired. 

Still, she has other exercises to do so it’s not too frustrating yet. Sakura needs to be able to stick multiple leaves on her body at once, but she also needs to be able to do other things and keep her concentration and not let them fall off. At first, she thought this meant exercising but Hashirama had something else in mind.

“Embroidery!”

He hands her a hoop and Sakura takes it as the leaf on her head drifts down and lands on the fabric. She snatches it up and sticks it back to her forehead.

“Why embroidery?” Is there a connection to her exercise she’s missing? Mama liked to do it but Sakura stabbed her fingers too many times for it to be something she enjoyed.

“’Cause, it’s fun!” Hashirama grins.

_This is just an excuse for you to do it._

Sakura is proven right when they don’t go out to join Naruto and Madara and instead Hashirama sidles up to Tsunami, who looks extremely amused at the situation. Last night at dinner she mentioned making Tatsuki properly fitting clothes, somewhere along the way she’d ended up in one of Madara’s high-collar shirts, Hashirama latched onto her and the rest was history.

“Why do you even want to do embroidery? This isn’t exactly useful for ninja work,” Sakura mutters and hisses as she stabs her index finger with the needle. The leaf falls from her forehead. She sticks it back on.

“My mom used to do it, she taught me the basics,” Hashirama answers after Tsunami finishes showing him the sashiko beginner’s pattern. It’s fancy and old and much more complicated than Sakura’s instructions on how to do basic stitches. “When I was little, I had a lot of trouble sitting still and focusing so she’d give me her sample cloths with interesting patterns that I could fiddle with.”

That was…surprisingly sweet.

“So, your mom’s not a shinobi?” Kakashi told her not to pry into Team 13’s business, especially the shady cloaks and masks stuff, but she desperately wants to know more. Hashirama and Madara talked about war but they were too young to be in the Third War. Was it a smaller war between small countries that she doesn’t know about?

“She was.” Hashirama doesn’t look up from his hoop.

“She’s not anymore?”

“She’s dead.”

The next question dies on the tip of Sakura’s tongue. She’s not going to mess this up like she did with the Sasuke and Naruto situation before graduation. But…what does she say now? ‘Sorry’? Nothing? Sakura’s quiet for too long, because Hashirama glances curiously up from his hoop.

“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t make that face, you’re not gonna upset me,” he waves her concern off, “besides you should have hobbies outside of shinobi stuff. Even Madara has his coupon collection now! Before that, the closest he had was collecting weapons.”

 _This is still just because you want to do it._ She thinks as he finishes it and bounds over to Tsunami to show her. Sakura sinks the needle into her finger again and sighs as the leaf floats down from her forehead.

Luckily, Hashirama doesn’t remain committed to embroidering inside. After another hour he ushers them back outside and into the forest where Madara, Tatsuki, and Naruto are. Naruto’s face is screwed up in an intense look of concentration as he slowly weaves four hand signs and then cups his palms together. He grunts, sweat rolling down his cheeks. Just as his face turns red and Sakura’s halfway convinced he’s going to hurt himself, there’s a small spark of fire in his cupped palms. Immediately after, it flickers out and he falls to the ground, heaving and panting.

“Madara! Look at what Tsunami-san showed me!”

_And we came outside just so you could show your boyfriend._

Absently Sakura wonders if Sasuke’s still doing tree-climbing practice or if he’s moved onto something else as she sits next to Naruto. She drops her embroidery hoop on the ground and reaches down to the forest floor to stick more leaves to her skin. She gets the third for seconds before she loses focus and all of them fall off.

Really, Sakura can’t complain about their joint sessions with Madara and Naruto. Hashirama’s distractions aside, Madara never lets it go on long before snapping that he’s slacking on Sakura’s training. Like a scolded puppy, Hashirama returns to her side and _tries_ , badly, to explain things when she gets stuck. He gives additional demonstrations and fumbles through trying to explain properly cycling chakra through the body until the limbs became inhumanely enhanced and gathering enough chakra in the hands and fists could result in his terrifying strength. _That_ demonstration, one flick splitting the ground in two, was sobering.

The other good thing about training near Madara and Naruto was eventually Sakura would get frustrated enough and Hashirama would run out of ways to say, “you just cycle the chakra in your body until you push the chakra into your limbs and store it in your fists” over and over, so he’d call Madara over.

Madara would break away from Naruto, leaving him huffing and puffing as the tiny flame threatened to blink out in his hands and come over to them, Tatsuki an ever-present figure on his back.

What followed was a conversation Sakura couldn’t follow, no matter how hard she tried.

Hashirama would tell him the exact thing he did Sakura, Madara would ask a question or two, then Hashirama would answer but make even _less_ sense as he kept repeating himself and dissolved into a lot of ‘you know’, ‘the thing’, ‘no not that thing, the other thing’ along with waving his arms and one time an exploding sound effect.

They’re doing it again now, on the third day of her training, their fourth day in Wave Country.

“How are you so good at talking to people but so shit at explaining things?” Madara asks incredulously. Hashirama pouts and crosses his arms. “This is exactly like your incomprehensible, long-winded jutsu names.”

“How are _you_ so good at explaining things but so shit at talking to people?” Hashirama fires back. Madara huffs and turns towards Sakura. He doesn’t deny it, not that he really could. Twice now, Sakura has heard him try to comfort their ever-growing collection of street kids and both times ended up making the kid cry. If it wasn’t for his gloomy expression afterward, she’d thought he was _trying_ to upset them. He’d made plenty more cry too, but then Tatsuki was on his back and any time other children came near him she’d peel her lips back, showing every pointed tooth back to her molars and snarl.

Those times couldn’t completely be explained by Madara’s social gaffs.

“Alright, I know what that idiot,” he jerks his thumb back at Hashirama, “is trying to say. You’re still working on cycling your chakra, right?”

She’s up to five leaves but she still can’t get the next step Hashirama keeps nudging her towards.

“Yeah, but I don’t know what that _means_.” Cycle the chakra through her body? It already did that, it was _chakra._ The chakra system is akin to other bodily ones, cardiovascular, immune, or nervous. She can direct it out for jutsu or adhering the leaves to her skin but how is she supposed to cycle it when it’s already cycling?

Madara sighs and squats down in front of her. He stares at her and Sakura involuntarily stiffens. His eyes are still unnerving. Even the cute sight of Tatsuki burying her face in his neck doesn’t lessen it.

“Chakra is made up of physical and spiritual energy. It naturally mixes in your body and flows through tenketsu points, but you do have control over its properties. Ninjutsu, genjutsu, it’s easy to see it outwardly but you can also shape and work with it internally too. Focus until you feel the chakra moving through you and then purposefully work through your body. The brain is especially important here,” Madara points to his own head. He still hasn’t blinked. “This is cycling, the purposeful movement of your chakra through your body. Eventually, something will click and you’ll feel a rush of chakra from your head down. That’s when you can start gathering it at the tenketsu points in your hands to mimic Hashirama’s strength, though it’ll still be weak because you don’t have the fine mastery he does. Keep working on purposefully cycling your chakra and something else will click and then you’ll be able to infuse it in your limbs to make yourself durable—”

“That’s especially important so you don’t shatter your limbs!” Hashirama cheerfully interrupts, drawing Madara’s attention.

“—yeah, so you don’t shatter your limbs. Also, to absorb blunt blows from opponents. Questions?”

“Yeah, I understand now that I have to feel for the chakra and purposefully move it now, but I still don’t know what that’ll feel like. Or how to do it,” Sakura slumps over her knees, fiddling with one of her leaves.

“Meditation and practice were how I did it,” Madara’s lip curls, and Sakura can only imagine how well _that_ went, “Hashirama is insane and was born knowing how to do it. You could ask Kakashi or Yamato-sensei. I can’t imagine any jonin wouldn’t know such a fundamental skill. I could try and use my sensory skills to see if you’re on the right track, but they’ll probably be too generalized for something as specific as this.”

“You know,” Hashirama starts, a thoughtful look on his face, “a diagnostic jutsu might work. It’d be unconventional but if I tried to feel the flow of her chakra rather than trying to heal anything…”

“And you definitely have the reserves to pull it off,” Madara says as he pushes himself to his feet. Tatsuki readjusts on his back with a huff and a sharp tug on his hair.

“Try that. Meditation and let Hashirama do his medic magic. Eventually, you should be able to feel your own chakra cycling and have control over its movement, that’s also the best way to break out of genjutsu.” He goes back to Naruto and his lackluster katons as Hashirama scoots closer to her, raising a glowing green hand.

“I’ve never really done this before, so it’ll take some trial and error but…there’s no reason it shouldn’t work!” Hashirama grins and Sakura feels something warm unfurl in her chest. This is a lot of work and hassle, trying new techniques and endlessly repeating himself but…he’s doing it. For her. Because he, and Madara, think she can do it.

Sakura steels herself before tears can well up in her eyes, her nails digging hard crescents into her palms. She’s going to learn how to master chakra control! She’s going to be the best kunoichi ever, civilian background be damned!

**Kakashi**

The last few days have been nearly peaceful. Kakashi has spent most of his time resting, guarding the bridge, or desperately trying to find his book. He peeked in on Naruto and Sakura once and saw Naruto laughing maniacally as he cupped an open flame in his hands and Sakura trying to become one with the trees…Kakashi left as quietly and as quickly as he could. As long as they didn’t destroy anything too important…

It’s fine.

It’s been peaceful but he knows it won’t last. It’s not the huge shattering of the tension that’s been slowly been building up as both teams wait for Gato’s next move, instead, it’s a simple line from Tenzo.

“I think you should talk to Sasuke.”

It’s their fourth day staying at Tazuna’s and Tenzo just got back from his shift on the bridge with terror three.

At least it’s not about the Icha Icha book that he still can’t find.

Kakashi has a sinking feeling he knows what he’s referencing but still asks, “about what?”

Tenzo turns and gives him a bland disapproving look. He’s folding laundry in their room while Kakashi sits in his futon, reading.

“He’s out there practicing from sun-up to sun-down. Until Naruto joins him in the evenings, he’s completely alone. It’s clear that he’s struggling and he seems to be avoiding Madara specifically. You’re his jonin-sensei so—”

“You want me to have an emotional chat with him,” Kakashi finishes in horror. Tenzo frowns at him, displeased by his words or tone, maybe both, but doesn’t deny it.

“You’re his jonin-sensei and the most stable figure of authority in Sasuke’s life—”

“Stop with the Yamanaka analyzation, you’ve been reading too many of their books,” Kakashi sets his own down and turns on his side until he’s facing away from Tenzo.

“Kakashi-senpai,” Tenzo’s voice is exasperated, “stop acting so childish. It’s just a conversation.”

Kakashi puts his hands over his ears. “I can’t hear you.”

“Actually, I think it would be good for both of you,” Tenzo continues, completely undeterred, “at least to establish a line of healthy, emotionally open communication—”

“Stop it…”

“where you can properly address any problems he may have—”

“Yamatooo…”

“and ultimately reassure him that you _are_ there as a stable presence in his life.”

Tenzo finishes and Kakashi groans, flopping over on his back. He recognizes that tone.

“You’re going to make me do it.”

“Of course not,” Tenzo says but his eyes tell a different story.

“You’re going to tell Gai and he’s going to turn this into a rivalry thing.”

“I would never.” Considering Kakashi lives in a fully furnished apartment and is forced to meet up with one of them once a week for some kind of ‘normal’ public outing without his porn, he knows that’s a lie.

In the end, he doesn’t last a full day against Tenzo. He doesn’t even last half.

 _It’s the eyes._ Kakashi thinks to himself as he squats on the branch of a tree, watching Naruto and Sasuke try to reach the top of their respective trees. It’s getting late and Naruto should be heading back soon while Sasuke stays for another hour or two. Tenzo has always had eyes too big and wide for his face that were just made to express disappointment and subtle threats against his senpai. He pulled himself out of ROOT’s programming and now he won’t stop until Kakashi works through his own issues. 

A loud groan draws Kakashi’s attention back to the genin. Naruto is splayed out on his back.

“I’m goin’ back now. You comin’ back tonight or are you gonna meet up with your—”

Sasuke’s kunai slams into the ground right next to him and Naruto scrambles up with a yelp.

“Hey! I was just askin’ you don’t gotta be rude about it, Sasuke-bastard! See if I care if you die!” He yells up and stands with a huff, dusting himself off and stomping away. He doesn’t notice Kakashi at all as he passes underneath his tree. Kakashi sighs and puts _situational awareness_ on his mental list of skills to go over with his team.

“I know you’re there, Kakashi-sensei,” Sasuke says once Naruto is well out of earshot. Well, at least _one_ of his students bother to check their surroundings. Kakashi shushins out of his tree to stand in front of Sasuke.

He has deep circles under his eyes. He’s been out here almost every night until midnight and it shows. Kakashi didn’t put up as much of a fight as he usually would with Tenzo because he knows deep down this is something he needs to address. Or at least try to. When he looks at Sasuke, in a lot of ways, he sees a younger version of himself. After Dad but before Obito and Rin. The big difference being where Kakashi had nothing to rail and fight against, Sasuke did. One person was the source of his pain and he was still alive.

The Uchiha had a track record with revenge, and they had been especially ruthless and brutal for kin-killers. Kakashi knows how this will end for Sasuke, full of agony and emptiness.

Killing Itachi won’t bring the clan back.

Ignoring Madara won’t make him disappear.

_God, I sound like Tenzo’s therapy books._

“I see you’ve been making progress.” Sasuke hasn’t reached the very top of the tree but he’s close. He’ll get it in another day or two at this rate.

“Not enough,” he crosses his arms and turns away.

Kakashi clears his throat and awkwardly. How was Tenzo so good at handling his terrors?

“Why are you here?” Sasuke asks, back still to him.

“I wanted to see how you were doing.” Kakashi has barely finished speaking before Sasuke snorts, shoulders hitching up to his ears.

“You think I can’t make it to the top? That I’ll lose to Naruto? That I can’t handle it?!”

“I never said—”

“Because I will!”

“Sasuke, I know you will,” Kakashi needs to deescalate this situation before he really gets angry or worse, starts to tear up, “you’re a talented kid with an unrelenting work ethic. I trust you to do this, I just wanted—”

“Really? You _trust_ me?” He peers back at Kakashi, the sneer on his lips visible in the moonlight. He’s getting real tired of being interrupted but at least this isn’t yelling or crying.

“Of course, I do,” at least more than the other two. Naruto had been drinking spoilt milk only a few months ago and Sakura, despite her training, still acted like a civilian pre-teen. He’s also pretty sure he caught her and Hashirama together with a deck of cards and if _that_ doesn’t fill him with deep resounding dread…

“Liar,” Sasuke spits out and turns back around. Why does he have to do this? Why can’t Tenzo, the apparent child whisperer, do it instead?

“When have I done something that’d suggest I didn’t trust you?” Kakashi asks, summoning up every ounce of patience he has.

Sasuke stiffens and spins around to fully face Kakashi. He looks like an apparition, with his washed-out skin and dark hair and clothes. Slowly, he raises his hand and jabs his thumb towards his own left eye.

 _Oh fuck, this_ is _about me._

“It’s a blessed eye,” he thought Sasuke understood that.

“I don’t care! You still didn’t tell me,” his voice cracks on the last word as his hands clench into fists by his side. “I lost _everyone_ , _everything_ and you have a sharingan and _you didn’t tell me!”_ He yells, standing tall and firm despite the pain in his voice.

“Sasuke…”

“So you don’t get to say you trust me, because you obviously don’t!” His black eyes are wet and shiny even as his expression twists with rage.

Kakashi sighs and ungracefully drops to the ground. It’s too hard to keep standing. Too much weight. He runs a hand through his hair, trying to ignore the sudden wave of nausea that always rises when he starts thinking about how to even broach the subject of Obito and Rin out loud. Sasuke is still glaring at him, but he also looks confused now.

He needs to do this. Fuck he needs to do this.

“I…” Kakashi trails off as his heart-rate picks up and he forces himself to take a long slow breath, “I got the eye. From a friend. Obito,” the name tastes like ash on his tongue, “he’s dead now.”

From the corner of his eye, he can see some of the tension slide from Sasuke’s shoulders. He’s listening, at least.

“It was during the Third War. Simple mission. Destroy Kannabi Bridge to cripple Iwa’s supply line. Things went wrong,” he tries to muster up explaining his fatal decision to abandon Rin which lead to…everything, but the memories are too tangled and he can’t talk about her without talking about her death and Kakashi…he can’t…he can’t… “he got trapped under a boulder. Dying. That’s how…” Kakashi waves at the left side of his face.

“I haven’t heard of him,” Sasuke says. It’s not meant to be cruel, just a statement but it still guts Kakashi.

_I’m gonna be Hokage so everyone will know who I am! They’ll have to acknowledge me then!_

Naruto is Minato-sensei’s son and Kakashi will always be fond of him for that, but god if he can barely listen to him talk about becoming Hokage without being excruciatingly reminded of Obito.

“His name is one the Stone, but he didn’t know his parents. Probably a bastard.”

Sasuke’s eyes narrow, no doubt reminded of Madara. Slowly he lowers himself to the ground, sitting across from Kakashi and still watching him warily.

“I didn’t mean to keep the sharingan a secret from you, Sasuke. My original eye was injured before the transplant which resulted in the scar. The clan…never fully accepted its blessed status.” Eyes were supposed to be kept among the Uchiha. Any outsider having one was suspect. “It was better not to antagonize them further and I didn’t want to upset you in case it was…hard to see another sharingan after the Massacre. I’m sorry if it felt like I was purposefully hiding it.” God, he feels exhausted. He wants to go crawl into his futon and not look at Tenzo’s too-good-natured-to-be-smug face for the next eight hours.

Sasuke doesn’t say anything else and Kakashi is genuinely grateful.

They’re sitting in silence long enough that Kakashi starts to think of a way to delicately extract himself from the situation when Sasuke clears his throat.

“I know how much chakra I need to gather to properly stick on the tree, but I don’t know how to reach the top without screwing up my balance.” He looks up and Kakashi recognizes the olive branch for what it is.

He stands up and extends a hand.

After a long, awkward moment Sasuke takes it and allows himself to be pulled up.

“I can give you a few tips.”

**Haku**

On the third day after he leaves his money and request, Haku returns to the willow tree. Shiori had just arrived, bringing nineteen others with her. They left as soon as they got Haku’s note and he knows they’re all tools for a bigger, greater dream, but it still warms his heart that they came so fast. The trip was supposed to be an entire week, but they made it here in days. Even if the plan with the Akatsuki falls through, he feels more confident than he had since the monsters first showed up.

And there, waiting between the willow’s swaying branches are two figures. One human, the other not.

“Yoo-hoo! Over here! Heard you needed a medic?” The one with a spiraling orange mask steps forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is Obito and Zetsu 😉 even I wouldn't throw Itachi in here yet, poor Sasuke has just worked through 1 (small) issue, he's not ready to get smacked with that. Also! I have to thank AO3 user chimericColoratura because it was their comment on Chapter 4 that resulted in this. Originally I had Shiori being the medic but somehow when they mentioned Hashirama possibly teaching Madara medical ninjutsu, my wires got crossed and I realized...Obito could very well be a medic and show up early. And now here are my brand new sparkly (angsty) headcanons on how and *why* I think Obito is a medic. 
> 
> He started learning to try and impress Rin/have something to bond with her over. He failed miserably. Cue boulder and getting taken in by Madara. He gets the weird Zetsu arm and while the mokuton isn't specifically linked with healing what it is...sorta connected. Long-story-short, through his own determination, a mixture of basic knowledge from before, the Zetsu arm, and Madara's own help (he wasn't a medic but...Hashirama) Obito managed to learn enough and get good enough to speed up his own healing and get out of the cave "earlier". Jump forward to Akatsuki. Tobi is already a member (technically he wasn't brought in officially until Sasori's death in canon) being a healer would be a great cover and explain why Pain keeps him around. I do agree that other members have some knowledge in healing but that's what Tobi markets himself exclusively as to the Akatsuki. (This also opens up great Angst Potential. Just saying.)
> 
> Also, since I'm mentioning Obito, the mangekyou sharingan is getting reworked for this fic. Now I *love* the theory that each power is related to the desire the user had most at the time of awakening (Obito to escape, Sasuke to burn down his enemies, Shisui to permanently change his reality, etc.) however I'm not doing that here. Instead, I'm presenting a stupidly simple yet elegant connection. There are three options when the MS awakens: Susanoo, Amaterasu, or Tsukuyomi. This correlates to the pinnacles of taijutsu, ninjutsu, and genjutsu respectively. The exact way the power manifests will differ between users. Here Itachi has two Tsukuyomi eyes but Kou (Madara's mom), who also had two Tsukuyomi eyes, had a different variation of the genjustu ability. This'll make a lot more sense when it comes up, but I don't want to spoil anything. This also means not every Uchiha gets Susanoo, and I'm going to take it a step further by literally scaling it down. I'm not a fan of the kaiju-esc fights of late Shippuden, especially because not everyone *has* a giant beast/glowing skeleton to ride around in. So Susanoo manifests as size-appropriate armor. When the ribs first appear, they cover the user's ribs not their entire body. When the skeleton is complete it can be made "bigger" (we're talking ten feet tall max) but it takes even more chakra and can't be kept long. When the armored form forms the size limit can go up to 25 and perfect 50. Most Uchiha will get the same power in both eyes but one of each is possible. You get the associated powers but say there was an Uchiha with two Susanoo eyes vs one with one, the double-eyed Susanoo will be stronger than its one-eye counterpart but both can reach the perfect form. 
> 
> Now I say all of this to say the above puts Kuami in a weird spot. Obito has Kuami but it's not an MS ability (bc he should have gone blind ten times over istg). Instead, it's an alteration of hiraishin. I haven't gotten to this point in my rewatch but Obito, who had romantic notions about being Hokage, was the student of the Hokage. Even if Minato hadn't been appointed when they were genin, I feel like everyone knew he was in the running. Rin's death and Obito's turn against the village has some unexplored tension in the relationship between Minato and Obito, I feel. That plus everyone and their mother takes and improves/alters their teachers' jutsu, I felt like it was appropriate. Functionally it's exactly the same, time limit included. (Also, Tobirama was the creator of the hiraishin and I believe, with every fiber of my being, Madara would want to fuck with the jutsu he made.) 
> 
> The next chapter will be posted on Sunday, February 14th. 
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://mira--mira.tumblr.com/) for more content!
> 
> Thank you for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! I'm behind on comments again bc this week has been crazy (four projects for one class, oh my god) but I do appreciate them all and they do usually affect the plot! You all have lovely ideas/perspectives and they are *invaluable* to me in crafting this story. <3


	9. Land of Waves: VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! All of you readers are my valentines and know if I could, I would send all of you some temporary Scooby-Doo tattoos (ie the truest form of love). I was feeling nostalgic for grade-school style Valentine's day gifts so I tried (and failed) to find my old favorite but let me just say kid party favors are crazy these days. Mini metallic sketches, bubble rings, tiny plastic skateboards, bouncy balls, etc. Back in my day, the craziest things were pencil accessories. The fancy gel or foam grips and the fun character eraser toppers that *never* worked properly as erasers...god I feel old. 
> 
>   
> Onto fic stuff! 
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: a few mentions of past character deaths and some weird pacing that *refused* to cooperate with me 😂
> 
> I forgot to mention in my MS breakdown in the last chapter but, Izanami and Izanagi aren't things in this au. Izanami is confusing as hell and even describing its mechanics is...vague and weird (seriously just trying skimming the wiki it's a mess) and Izanagi only really affected Obito, Danzou, and Madara iirc, and I don't know if this fic will even get to Obito v Konan or go completely off the tracks and have a different set-up altogether, same with Danzou. As for Madara using it...I'm still working out the details but I have a pretty good idea of alternatives that keep him "dying" at the VotE without Izanagi.
> 
> There are also a few descriptions of hand seals in this chapter, nothing super detailed but if you'd like a visual the wiki has [this](https://naruto.fandom.com/wiki/Hand_Seal)
> 
> I also realized I may have made a mistake with one jutsu classification. "Kenjutsu" is very specifically reserved for swords but the umbrella term for all kinds of weapons jutsu is "bukijutsu" still combing for possible errors but just an FYI for this chapter!
> 
> Enjoy!

**Madara**

They spend the rest of the week training Naruto and Sakura and guarding the bridge builder. Naruto made his position clear when he mastered the basic taijutsu forms. He had little interest in pursuing taijutsu and no interest in bukijutsu.

“Ninjutsu, Madara-sensei! I wanna learn katons and fūtons!”

When Madara remembered to ask Hashirama one night when they were curled up together outside in their sleeping bag, he had confirmed Naruto had a wind affinity. While, theoretically, he could help Naruto with both, his own fūton knowledge started and ended with a gunbai. And since he hadn’t seen a proper fan anywhere outside of Suna along with Naruto’s complete disinterest in the weapon it was a moot point anyway.

“Ok, ok. Let’s start with Light while I think of a fūton,” Madara shows him the four simple hand signs: tiger, boar, ox, tiger. Light is the first katon most children learned, creating a spark of fire above the hand that, with a twist of the wrist, condensed into a small glowing ball of light. A useful, but very simple jutsu.

Madara demonstrates and when the fire sparks and wraps into a flickering sphere, Tatsuki reaches over his shoulder to grab at it.

“What is it with you two and trying to touch fire?!” He gripes as Naruto does the same. Madara is forced to stand on his tiptoes, arm extended awkwardly so neither could reach it. “Stop it! You’re going to get burned!”

With a sigh, he lets the jutsu fizzle out, admonishes them both, and then settles in to watch Naruto practice.

Naruto is…horrible at it.

He watches Naruto runs through the signs and cups his hands together. Chakra flows out but he’s red in the face and about to pass out from asphyxiation before a tiny flame bursts to life in his hands.

Logically, Madara knows learning a new style takes time, especially if it’s not the person’s natural affinity. He’s watched Hashirama struggle and absolutely fail at _any_ nature transformation that wasn’t the mokuton, after all.

“Am…am I at least gettin’ better?” Naruto puffs out, splayed on his back. Madara’s sitting next to him, Tatsuki in his lap as he divides his attention between them and Hashirama and Sakura. She’s meditating and Hashirama has a hand pressed against the pulse point in her wrist. They’ve been at this for about three hours and Hashirama’s getting antsy. Honestly, Madara’s surprised he even managed to sit still this long. His attention drifts back to Naruto and he hums.

“You are, but this is the problem with learning non-affinities, remember? It’s exhausting.” It’s why Madara only knew a handful of fūtons and he couldn’t access them without his warfan.

“I’m not givin’ up!” Naruto straightens with a snap and runs through Light again, straining hands cupped together. He’s done it too fast and this time a flame doesn’t even form. Naruto falls back to the forest floor with a huff. “Why am I doin’ this with my hands anyway? Whenever you and Sasuke-bastard do it, you breathe fire. I wanna breathe fire too,” he pouts, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Me too, me too. I wanna, Nii-chan,” Tatsuki whispers, tugging on his shirt. Naruto turns his head to squint at her and she quiets down. She’s watching him with narrowed eyes, her blind one tucked against Madara’s chest, but at least she’s not baring her teeth at him. Progress.

“Breathing fire is more dangerous, there’s a higher risk that it’ll go wrong if you don’t know what you’re doing. It’s better to push chakra out of your hands to start.”

“Yeah, but _why_?”

“Chakra originates and mixes together here,” Madara leans over and pokes him below his navel, “right in your guts. It’s always moving through your body but breathing fire means moving it up to your lungs, which are a lot more delicate than your hands. If you screw up the nature transformation it’s the difference between burning the inside of your lungs, throat, and mouth versus burning your palms and fingers.”

It’s the same reason suiton users and fūton users started with a natural source rather than creating their own. Drowning on land or bursting your own lungs were common ways to die for weak petty clans or civilians who had no idea what they were doing. Even the Uchiha, who take every precaution to safeguard themselves, lose a couple in each generation to the internal burning. Madara still watches Izuna like a hawk as he practices, sensing for the slightest spike of chakra gone wrong. Protecting Izuna was the original intention behind creating the Devourer jutsu which he persisted in finishing even after Father told him it was unlikely Madara would be fast enough to smother the flames in his little brother’s lungs before they burned him. He still had to try. Just in case. Madara was sun-blessed, he was as fire-proof inside as out. The absolute worst he’d get was coughing up a lungful of smoke.

Naruto gulps. “Y-yeah, that sounds like a pretty good reason why.”

Despite Naruto’s less than stellar start, he sticks with it. By their third day of training, he can consistently make a small flame in the palm of his hands. It usually flickers out before he can twist his wrist to form it into a small floating sphere but it’s progress.

Tatsuki’s own attempts to copy him have…not been as successful. Her seals are sloppy, clearly inexperienced. Madara corrects her hands and then holds his own in front of her to look at.

“Tiger,” he presses his hands together, first two fingers and thumbs raised. Tatsuki squints at him and then holds up dragon, fingers locked together and pinkies pressed down.

They blink at each other in confusion. Madara _might_ understand getting ram mixed up with tiger but _dragon_? He reaches out and pulls her tiny hands apart, rearranging them until the tiger seal is formed.

“Boar,” Madara holds his fists down. Tatsuki watches and after a moment reforms dragon. He corrects her again.

“Ox,” he interlaces his fingers. Another dragon.

“Tiger,” Madara forms the final seal and for a moment he thinks she’s going to get it. She presses her hands together, starts to raise her thumbs…and switches at the last moment to dragon. He squints down at her. “You…you can see, right? Out of at least one eye?” Madara leans in and waves a finger in front of her black eye. It tracks back and forth and Tatsuki grunts in response.

He doesn’t have long to ponder this. Naruto draws back his attention and soon enough Hashirama is calling him over to come translate Hashirama-speak into something normal people can understand.

Gods he doesn’t envy Sakura. Hashirama is many things, but a teacher is not one of them.

At first, Madara didn’t know what to think of her. When they were still in Fire Country, she only spoke to her own team. If Madara was honest, he had no idea how to act around civilians in this time or his own. Civilians didn’t become shinobi. They lived in two separate worlds and Madara’s experiences started with vendors refusing to sell to the “cursed” Uchiha clan and ended with townsfolk informing enemy clans to lay in wait and ambush them when they were supposed to be in neutral territory. The only good civilians were clients who paid well. That _anyone_ could enroll in Konoha’s Ninja Academy was a…novel idea. But despite her background, Sakura’s chakra developed, and her signature, though relatively weak, read as a shinobi signature, not civilian.

Plus, she helped him round up the street kids and stayed with them outside every night, so she wasn’t all that bad.

Inari, on the other hand, he wasn’t so sure about. The days passed and every time he, Naruto, and Tatsuki went out into the forest, eventually Madara would sense the boy. He didn’t show himself instead, he chose to hide behind trees and watch them practice. It was nothing serious, he was hardly a threat, but it raised the hair on the back of Madara’s neck the same as someone standing behind him did.

He only tried to confront the boy once in the middle of the week and it ended poorly. Madara was going upstairs to get something from his pack and caught the other boy in the hallway. Before he knew it, he must have said something wrong because Inari was scoffing at him, telling him he might as well not bother practicing with the other genin, Gato would kill them all anyway.

Madara had been ready to haul him up by the ear for being so disrespectful and dismissive but, before he could, Tatsuki launched herself from her place on his back. Madara caught her before she could tumble to the ground, let alone get in range to take a swipe at him, but the boy ran off with a cry as soon as she moved.

He was ready to berate Tatsuki, but the words died on his lips when he saw the tears dripping down her cheeks. She cried silently, unnaturally for a child, and held tight around his neck, refusing to move.

“Don’t die…don’t die.”

When he and Sakura went out that first night their only plan was to find kids that would hopefully lead them to other kids. It worked pretty well. Only the most desperate followed them, those that had nothing else to lose from following two strangers promising food. But no one showed him the alley where Tatsuki was, Madara found it himself.

Children all had rather interchangeable chakra signatures. It wasn’t until they actively started training that they really developed and became unique. But it was still possible to tell a clan signature from a civilian one.

And that’s what he sensed, a clan signature, a _shinobi_ signature, passing by that alley. Barely developed, not trained in the slightest, but a clan signature, nonetheless.

“Don’t go down there. A scary monster lives there,” one of the boys clinging to Sakura whispered.

_A monster…_

The word grated against his nerves and he turned away, striding towards the alley with purpose. Tatsuki was hidden behind a large garbage bin, blind eye tucked protectively against her shoulder. She froze, making herself small, but when it was clear he’d spotted her, she started to growl and throw rotting trash at him.

“Back! Back! I’mma monster, get back!” Her voice was hoarse and thin from disuse. She squeezed herself as far back behind the dumpster as she could, throwing glass bottles and stinking cans. Madara slowed and put his side to the dumpster so the trash flew harmlessly past.

“Are you hungry? I have food.”

He could hear her ragged, strained breaths. When she didn’t throw anything else, Madara crouched down and peeked his head around the corner. Only to be met with a snarl and Tatsuki driving a shard of glass into his shoulder.

“I’mma _monster!_ ” She tried to drag the glass across his throat, but she drove it too deep to start and didn’t have enough strength to rip it free. Still, she snarled up defiantly at him, one black eye full of fear and rage.

Madara knew what drove him to say his next words. An offhand comment by Naruto during training that very first night, muttering about wanting to beat Sasuke-bastard and then those monstrous kids in purple cloaks. He didn’t know it was Team 13, that much was clear. He didn’t know he was indirectly calling Madara a monster. It still stopped him short. Still made his temper flare and he snapped at Naruto, shorter than he meant to be.

The Uchiha first called him a monster when he was nine.

Madara had been on bed rest, battered and cut up from their last battle with the Kaguya clan. But he had been in bed for three days straight and was going insane with nothing to do. So, he pushed himself up, limping down the hall to find Izuna.

He hadn’t planned on stopping outside of Father’s study. One of the Elders forgot to close the door before starting their meeting and it was cracked open, just a bit. He was supposed to go on past but his leg was hurting and he just needed to take a small break and rest against the wall, it was fine, he could do this—

“—considered a prodigy, Tajima-sama. But there are…limits to human ability, even among the sun-blessed. Kou was an aberration, that Madara takes so closely after her, is on the path to supersede her…he is clearly loyal to the clan, but this latest incident with the Kaguya raises… _concerns_ …”

“Exactly _what_ are you implying about my wife and son?” Father’s voice was cold. It was always like that now. Cold, empty, or sad. His heart died with Mother months ago and only embers remained.

The Elders were silent.

It was damning.

“ _Get. Out._ ”

Madara scrambled away from the door as fast as he could before they could emerge and see him. His leg was shooting up white-hot flashes of pain, but it was nothing compared to the ache radiating out from his chest. He knew, he _knew_ this could happen. Mother warned him, her voice rough and full of heartache, about the razor-thin line between protector and monster. The sun-blessed, despite their power and Amaterasu’s favor, were known. Accepted. Understood.

Mother was not.

She was sun-blessed. She was sun-cursed. She could walk through infernos untouched but could not form the simplest katon, not even Light. A paradox. An aberration. A witch.

And without her, the clan’s scrutiny shifted to him. Watching. Waiting.

Madara didn’t know how to walk the line. He knew power was meant to protect others. That’s what he was told so he chased after it, recklessly throwing himself forward because he didn’t want any more of his family to be ripped away from him.

That’s exactly what happened with the Kaguya. The Senju killed Yuuto and Reo, but Kaito had been fallen in battle to that horrid clan almost two years ago.

Madara had watched as the man tore him apart with bones that grew from his skin. He couldn’t move, couldn’t help. He was too far away and Izuna was injured behind him. Even if he tried, it’d leave his other brother open and defenseless. This was Izuna’s first battle, he was the youngest. Madara had to protect him.

So he watched.

Helpless.

He was seven then.

And when he saw the same Kaguya man on the battlefield last week…

The Kaguya were a horrid clan. The Uchiha hated the Senju more because their lands were right next to each other and they fought and clashed often with a centuries-long blood feud. But the Kaguya were more dreadful to fight. It cost too many lives. The Kaguya were small, but their kekkei genkai was versatile and strong against both bukijutsu and ninjutsu. It usually took two Uchiha to take one down. A master could fell three completely on their own.

Madara saw the man who killed his little brother and he was filled with rage, he acted without thinking. He remembered everything, racing forward and forming katon seals but it all felt…distant. Like a hazy, red-soaked dream. It wasn’t until a curled bone blade buried itself into his leg, wrapping from hip to kneecap that he snapped back to himself and felt every aching, screaming muscle and the myriad of cuts along his skin. Madara fell to the ground.

Ten Kaguya shinobi laid dead at his feet as the plains around them burned, forcing both clans back. Only Hayaka, Father’s falcon summons, dropping from the sky to sink her talons into the distracted man’s neck, snapping it from the sheer force, kept the eleventh Kaguya from ripping his leg off.

Madara was nine, a year before he met Hashirama, two before they started to spar and he could share the crushing loneliness that came with being a monstrous prodigy with someone else. It was one of the hundreds of things Hashirama _understood_ that no one else did.

His eyes burned, heart beating an unsteady rhythm in his chest as he continued towards his and Izuna’s room.

“Aniki! Aniki! Look what I painted!” Madara barely slid the door open before Izuna was up and running into him. Bright stars flashed behind his eyelids and he nearly bit clean through his lip as Izuna jarred his leg. “Oops, sorry. But look!” Izuna held up his scroll and it was a poorly proportioned Madara being lifted up by the other Uchiha, dozens of dead Kaguya at their feet. “You like it? Hikaku said I should make an epic battle scroll for you, and Naori found this empty one in her stuff and…aniki are you okay?” Izuna titled his head to the side, gapped-tooth grin shrinking as he stared at Madara in concern.

“Y-yeah. Pain just hit me, is all.” Madara wiped at his eyes and patted Izuna’s head. It was fine. It’d all be fine. He had Izuna and the younger members of the clan. They wouldn’t turn against him. They’d understand he was just trying to protect them like he always had.

“Some people think I’m a monster too,” Madara whispered to Tatsuki, ignoring the glass embedded in his shoulder. His sharingan swirled to life. It only occurred to him after that she wouldn’t recognize it. Probably would never have heard about the Uchiha and his clan’s infamous reputation much less who _Madara_ was, she was way too young.

But when his eyes turned red, Tatsuki gaped at him the hostility bleeding out of her.

“See? It’s okay.” Madara let the red fade from his eyes and tried to smile reassuringly.

“We’re…the same,” Tatsuki whispered hoarsely and touched the angry scars on her bare forearms. Her eyes welled with tears and she lunged forward to lock her hands around Madara’s neck, sobbing into his chest. For the first time, Madara saw her blackened leg and felt the fever radiating from her skin. She was nothing but bones held together with scraps of skin. Tatsuki had been alone on the streets for longer than any other child they’d come across so far. She had a day to live before the infection killed her. Maybe two if she was lucky. Without Hashirama and his miraculous healing, she would have died alone and hungry behind an alley dumpster.

Madara picked her up and Tatsuki settled calmly in his arms.

“’m Tatsuki.”

“Madara.”

The rest of the week continues to pass quietly. It’s unsettling. Where are Gato’s men? The bridge is nearing completion, it’ll be finished and ready to use in another week’s time.

_Something’s wrong._

It’s a realization that slowly creeps over Madara’s skin as each day passes without incident.

Hashirama feels it too. He’s no less cheery but his chakra is agitated and he’s completely unable to sit still. Though, that also might be because it’s been over two weeks since their last proper spar. They’re both restless and the sense of creeping unease doesn’t help. Madara longs to be back in Fire Country or even on a bigger fucking island so they could fight and relax.

Something’s going to break soon, if not the growing tension, one of them.

By the seventh day, everyone has picked up on their moods or the strange apprehension. Yamato-sensei has gently suggested they take a day off and unwind, while Sai is blunter and tells them to stop pacing around like animals and sit still. Despite this Naruto and Sakura are improving, even if they’ve noticed the tension too. Sakura hasn’t cycled her chakra properly but she can concentrate on six individual leaves on her body and can walk around properly with two. Naruto can, more or less, consistently perform Light even if he misapplies the amount of chakra and occasionally can’t get the final twist of the wrist to form it into an orb. Today he and Hashirama end training early, Naruto goes off to find Sasuke like usual while Sakura follows them back to Tazuna’s.

In the evening the street kids creep back. They’re up to twenty now and while all of them are still suspicious the oldest two, Niko and Asahi, nine and ten respectively have slowly started to warm up to them. Mostly to Tsunami who, with a cheerful smile and zero room for disagreement, has started a community fund of what her neighbors can spare. An old blanket here, half a cup of rice there, a chipped bowl or two, someone’s out of fashion clothes. It’s small but it makes a difference. Madara still wants to do something more, something permanent. Even if the bridge opened immediately and contracts or however else civilians got work flooded in, things wouldn’t improve overnight. They’ll eventually leave Wave and he knows he can’t bring all of the children back to Konoha.

Tatsuki is different. She voiced her opinion on the matter quite clearly.

Once when he was upstairs going through his pack, she pulled out one of his extra shirts and put it on over her own, uchiwa on the front instead of the back.

“This is mine!” She declared before flopping back on the floor, tiny arms wrapped around her middle. The shirt nearly swallowed her, the sleeves reaching down to her elbows, the hem almost to her kneecaps. It was clear that Tatsuki declared herself an Uchiha and Madara should respect that decision. _Technically_ , he did not disobey Yamato-sensei.

He even got Hashirama on board by using his dumb plant to child analogy, then immediately felt irritated with himself afterward that he could use said analogy. Fucking Hashirama and his orchids and cacti. However, his grand plan to convince Yamato-sensei was to not address the subject until absolutely forced to and hope he came to terms with it before he explicitly said ‘no’. It was a shitty plan but better than Hashirama’s backup which was to shove Tatsuki in Yamato-sensei’s fancy cooking scroll. Apparently, since the scroll could store foodstuff, it should _theoretically_ be able to hold a person for a few hours, according to Tobirama.

Madara stopped himself from smacking the other boy upside the head…but just barely.

It didn’t matter. He wasn’t leaving Tatsuki behind.

It’s a night like any other. The kids sit and eat around the campfire, a bit more clear-eyed, a bit more focused. Sai is…better about interacting with them if not _good_ at it like Sakura is. Madara holds Tatsuki on his lap, running his hand through her short spiky hair as she bares her teeth at the other kids. Hashirama settles in beside him. He reaches out to grab Madara’s free hand, fidgeting in place as he traces the scars and callouses.

And then Naruto and Sasuke stumble from the forest, arms around each other’s shoulders.

“Hey, hey! Madara-sensei, we did it, we made it to the very top!” Naruto announces, dragging himself and Sasuke closer to the fire. The kids look up warily, they’re usually all asleep by the time the other two return.

“Good job.” He pats Naruto’s head as he leans down. Tatsuki grumbles and grabs at Madara’s arm, trying to get his hand back. From the corner of his eye, Madara can see Sasuke stiffen, eyes firmly locked on the ground. “You think Kakashi-sensei will let me guard Tazuna tomorrow?”

“Probably.” Madara tries to push any worry he has down. Naruto’s improving but he’s still not on par with a jonin. But the bridge is almost complete. It should be finished by next week if Tazuna keeps the current pace and no more workers quit. They’ve been anxious but the presence of both Kakashi and Yamato-sensei has eased the worst fear.

To a country with no hidden village, two jonin were a rare and prized defense.

Naruto straightens with a grin and they both head inside.

“Hashi…do you think…” Madara starts and then stops, brows furrowing as he stares at their intertwined hands. Across from them Yamato-sensei and Sai start filling bowls for dinner.

“Hmm?”

“Is Sasuke avoiding me?” He wouldn’t meet Madara’s eyes. That was…strange.

“Yeah,” Hashirama says, tracing the smooth edge of Madara’s thumbnail. He frowns.

“Why?”

“He doesn’t like you.”

“I didn’t do anything to him.” Unless he was still upset about the clan head duel? But that was months ago and he hadn’t tracked Madara down to demand an apology, not that Madara had anything to apologize for. He was the one who had been slighted, _twice_.

“I dunno. Clan head duel?” Hashirama’s eyes dart to his. “He also freaks out when you do this,” he raises his hand and flicks Madara between the eyes. Tatsuki blinks up at them and immediately reaches up, trying to copy Hashirama. Madara pulls her closer until her arms are pinned between them.

He scrunches his nose up in thought as Sai passes him a bowl and ignores his little brother’s muttered comment about his face getting stuck in an ugly expression. He doesn’t get Sasuke, but then Madara hasn’t been _trying_ to go out of his way to spend time with him either. Even if Sasuke hadn’t called him a Ghost and implied he was an eye-thief which was just… _insulting_ and _slanderous_ , and he wouldn’t stand for _anyone_ insinuating he would be anything less than absolutely loyal to the Uchiha…he had a dead man's face. _Izuna’s_ face.

A face similar to a loved one was a good omen.

An exact face meant the original person’s life had been cut short or they died unfulfilled and angry. That Izuna would suffer either fate…when Madara was responsible for protecting him…

He couldn’t fail Izuna, not after he failed his other brothers.

He just couldn’t.

After dinner, Hashirama breaks out the cards. Madara doesn’t know where he got them, only he didn’t have them when they left Konoha. They play a few rounds of blackjack and holdem with the street kids watching curiously before Madara’s had enough of Hashirama and his counting cards all while smiling and insisting he wasn’t. He’s just about to let Tatsuki loose and have her scatter them everywhere when Sakura makes her way around and Hashirama sees his new opportunity.

He may struggle with teaching her chakra control, but gods know he has no problem passing down his bad habits.

And Sakura took to gambling like a duck to water.

Madara sits, disgruntled, next to Sai as he watches the two cheaters go back and forth.

“You’re just pissy because you have a terrible poker face.”

“Shut up.”

They’re getting ready for bed when Naruto slams the front door open and stomps out, face twisted into a scowl. Madara finishes settling Tatsuki in her sleeping bag, technically his. It’s not a futon that he can tuck her in like he used to do with Izuna when he was small, but Madara zips the bag up around her smooths it out. He’s watching Naruto from the corner of his eye but he doesn’t react as Madara scoots over, ready to join Hashirama in theirs. It’s time for his nightly ritual to read two pages from his strange little orange book before he gets frustrated and puts it aside.

He’s just sat down when Naruto slinks over to them. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at the ground and twists his hands around.

Madara’s about to snap at him just to spit it out, there’s nothing he can do if Naruto just stands there in silence, but Hashirama lays a hand on his shoulder before Madara can speak. He pats the end of their sleeping bag and Naruto sits down and finally looks up, a wet sheen over his eyes.

“I know…I know it’s stupid but…I’m not dumb, right? For thinkin’ I can get stronger?” His voice warbles but he keeps his eyes steadily locked with Madara’s own. “I wanna…I wanna be a hero.”

“You’re not dumb, Naruto. Of course, you can get stronger, that’s what training is for. You climbed to the top of the tree tonight and you did Light three times in a row today without a single mistake, remember?”

Naruto relaxes, but he’s still frowning.

“But that’s baby stuff, isn’t it? You two—”

“—shouldn’t be the milestone of your progress,” Hashirama interrupts. “We’re exceptions, not the rule.”

“Yeah but there were those cloaked kids, and that hunter one too,” Naruto pouts. Madara considers telling him for half a second just to prove that no, it was _only_ the hunter nin, but that would be wildly irresponsible and directly disobeying Yamato-sensei. 

“Focus on what you can do and how you can improve. Selfishly pursuing power is just going to make you miserable; you’re not going to get anywhere. Being a hero…” Madara trails off. Yamato-sensei explained the word’s meaning to him and it bothers him, digs under his skin in a way he can’t put into words. But Naruto is a kid and it’s clear that he’s put a lot into this dream of being a hero. He wants the village to recognize him, by his own words. Madara…Madara shouldn’t take that from him so he keeps his mouth shut.

“Being a hero is a fine goal, just remember not everything is about getting others’ approval. It’s helping that matters most, right?” Hashirama grins widely and Naruto nods along. 

“Can I…can I sleep out here tonight?” He asks, running his hand over the sleeping bag.

“I’m not stopping you,” Madara mutters, slipping into their bag. Hashirama follows after him as Naruto tries to convince Tatsuki to at least scooch over to one side so he wasn’t half on the ground.

Their morning is a break in routine. Sasuke and Naruto _have_ been put on bridge guarding rotation, but when they wake up, Naruto is completely dead to the world.

“He pushed himself too far,” Hashirama says, poking his nose. He scowls in his sleep, flipping over but doesn’t wake.

“Let him sleep in. Sasuke, Sakura, and I will do the first shift on the bridge,” Kakashi says, staring down at Naruto. With no genin to train, Hashirama decides they should go foraging to add something besides meat to Tsunami’s growing food supply. Before he could ask if Sai wants to join, he slaps a ‘do not disturb’ sign on the genins’ room and slams the door in Madara’s face. More scroll practice then. He leaves Tatsuki with Yamato-sensei and Tsunami to make the final adjustments on her new clothes. She complains and it’s oddly familiar to their one and only D-rank mission when Hashirama has to pry her away from Madara. Eventually, she relents and goes with a grumble. She refuses to part with Madara’s oversized shirt but her pants are so worn and torn, they’re mere patches at this point, she desperately needs something new.

Baskets in hand and a promise to return in an hour or two, Madara and Hashirama walk into the forest and narrowly miss Gato’s hired thugs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS. GUYS. GUYS. There's fanart for this fic now!! A super big shout-out and thanks to [sneaky_wifi](https://twitter.com/sneaky_wifi) for making it! You can find it [here](https://twitter.com/sneaky_wifi/status/1358565155345485824/photo/1) it's a scene from chapter 6 with Madara explaining the "cracked ramen bowl" concept to Naruto  
> and if you want to see some BoaF fanart and the *cutest* collection of feral bird boi's expressions that's [here](https://twitter.com/sneaky_wifi/status/1360321612667617280/photo/1). She's an absolutely amazing artist, please give her some support! 
> 
> Things are about to get spicy 👀 also I really love imagining the circumstances that led Hashirama and Madara to well, becoming *Hashirama and Madara* and the environment they were raised in (and their parents) have always been top of the list for me of interesting content for me. Plus, canon barely acknowledges moms are a thing? At all? And I'm not here for that. If you want to see what Kou looks like (and why she's called the Red-Eyed Witch) that's [here](https://mira--mira.tumblr.com/search/kou)
> 
> The next chapter will be posted next Sunday, February 21st.
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://mira--mira.tumblr.com/) for more content!
> 
> Thank you for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! It means a lot to me! <3  
> 


	10. Land of Waves: IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate chapter name: if I give myself an inch, I'll always take a mile when it comes to establishing backgrounds and clan customs. Or the Tatsuki backstory and the starting action chapter! The Wave Arc is (finally) wrapping up!
> 
> Chapter warnings: character death, descriptions of violence/blood. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**Tenzo**

Tenzo stares down at the feral child in his lap. Madara’s stolen shirt with its proudly displayed uchiwa speaks for itself. He doesn’t know why he thought Hashirama would be any help in this kind of situation.

He sighs and pats Tatsuki’s spiky black head. If it weren’t for her brown skin and pointed teeth, she’d be identical to any full-blooded Uchiha child he’d seen running around before the Massacre. She even had the trade-marked scowl and onset eyebags.

“You’re very cute, I’ll give you that.”

She huffs, angrily tugging on his shirt as Tsunami lays out her clothes for their fitting along with an old pair of Inari’s shoes that weren’t too worn.

“When’s Nii-chan back?” Tatsuki demands as Tsunami slips on the shoes. The left fits but the right is loose around her weakened foot and ankle.

“In a little—” Tenzo is cut off as Naruto, yelling, throws the front door open and rushes upstairs to change, “—bit.” Tsunami has hardly slipped the shoes off when he runs back down, hastily zipping up his jacket and slamming the door shut behind him.

“They’re all so excitable! Inari has been so quiet and withdrawn after…everything, I’d nearly forgotten what it’s like,” Tsunami smiles wanly as she helps Tatsuki down from his lap. She reaches back to grab his knee for support as Tsunami wiggles her out of her shorts to try the new ones on. They’re dark, nearly black, by Tatsuki’s own insistence. If she starts wrapping her forearms in bandages, she’ll look like a mini-Madara.

“This is my first genin team, it’s…definitely taken some getting used to.” Tenzo still doesn’t understand how they’re all so _loud._ Even Sai! He can’t remember being that way as a child. Well…the lab flashes in his mind, rows and rows of tanks, children suspended and dying. One slitted yellow eye staring at him in the darkness.

It was hard to be loud when you had no voice.

“And now your number has gone up to four!” Tsunami laughs and Tenzo fights back another sigh. Telling the team that Tatsuki has to stay isn’t going to end well, but it’s for her own safety. “Lift your arms for me, dear.” Tatsuki refuses, wrapping her arms around her middle.

“Don’t you want a new shirt, Tatsuki? Tsunami-san made it, and it looks really nice…” Tenzo trails off as Tsunami holds it up. It’s nearly identical to the one she has on now, both with the high collar and uchiwa, which Hashirama had been the one to sew on now by Madara’s insistence, just something fitted to her size. She still eyes it skeptically. “You know, if you want to match Madara I think the new shirt would help. This one,” Tenzo lightly tugs on hers, “is so big it looks like a dress. Madara wears a shirt, not a dress, right?”

Tatsuki grumbles but raises her arms and lets Tsunami pull the shirt off. Tenzo is prepared to see the starkness of her ribcage and the bit of bloat in her stomach but her arms…around her forearms are the same pink scars he saw the first night. But now black lines, he’d mistake them for tattoos if they were on an adult, curl around her upper arms, ending in sharp points under her collarbones. Were they there on the first night? 

“What are those, Tatsuki?” Tenzo keeps his voice gentle as he taps under his own collarbones. She glances up at him then down to her arms, squinting. “Where’d you get them?”

“I’mma monster,” she shrugs, “like Nii-chan.” She holds up her hands and Tenzo can see a black line on each slowly creeping through the mess of scars on her forearms towards the center of the backs of her hands. Before he can respond, because this _definitely_ seems like something he should respond to, the front door bursts open again.

Naruto stands on the threshold, bent over and panting.

“Uh…uh…Yamato…I think,” he gulps in a deep breath and stands up, “I think there’s a problem.”

He explains he got a bit mixed up when he tried to take a shortcut through the forest to get to the bridge and decided to climb to the top of a tree to make sure he was headed in the right direction. Once at the top, he realized he was, but also that there was a boat full of people underneath the bridge. He had been too far away to see properly but—

“I dunno, their clothes looked kinda funny and they had weapons I’m pretty sure…they didn’t look like workers…”

_Gato’s men._

Gato’s men with only Kakashi and his two genin on the bridge…

Tenzo stands. “Sai! They’re here!”

Naruto follows him like a shadow as he runs upstairs to grab his weapons. He finishes strapping his tanto to his chest just as Sai peeks his head in the door.

“I’m ready.” He looks put together, every weapon in place.

“Send a bird to get Madara and Hashirama, they’re still out in the forest.” It might be overkill, god knows just _one_ of them was probably overkill, but an entire boatload worries him. If the workers were still on the bridge…it’d be guarding a large group that far out on the water with no access to the mokuton for either him or Hashirama. The issue would be keeping everyone alive.

_If they aren’t dead already._

Sai nods and takes out a small scroll. They rush back downstairs. Tsunami stands in the kitchen, holding a struggling Tatsuki, now with a shirt on, in her arms.

“Lemme go! Wanna fight!” She reaches out for Tenzo, grasping.

 _Absolutely not._ He’s not taking an untrained six-year-old into a fight. But Tenzo recognizes that look of stubborn determination on her face. Thank god Madara is usually the most agreeable of his genin.

“You have to stay here and protect Tsunami-san and Inari, Tatsuki,” he says as Sai slips out the front door to send off the bird. Tenzo grabs Naruto and slaps his hand over his mouth before he can contest that claim. It’s not like she would actually be able to follow them but keeping her still and safe in one place is the most important thing. Tatsuki freezes, thinks it over, and then slumps in defeat.

“Fine. _Next time_ …” She glares and he doesn’t have the time or heart to correct her right now.

“Lock the door behind us. I don’t know if Gato will have more men in the city,” Tenzo says, adjusting his happuri. The kids have scattered from the night before so they’re not sitting ducks but if Tazuna is the primary target…

Tsunami nods, expression tight. Tenzo barely catches sight of Inari peeking down at them from the top of the stairs. He looks away when his eyes meet Naruto’s.

The door shuts behind them and Tenzo hears the lock turn.

“We’re taking the direct path, Naruto, get on my back.” The boy doesn’t argue and he and Sai jump directly out onto the water’s surface, racing towards the bridge. Now, he can only hope they’ll make it on time.

**Tatsuki**

She has been given a very important mission from the Big Tree to guard the Wave Woman and her Mean Boy. Tatsuki sits on the counter, swinging her legs back and forth as the Wave Woman washes dishes. Her small leg isn’t hurting yet, Smiling Tree has been helping her make it strong again after he healed it with his glowing hands.

She thinks he’s a monster too, like her and Nii-chan, but it’s not as obvious. Not like Nii-chan’s eyes or her arms.

“Do you want to help me dry the dishes?” The Wave Woman asks with a tight smile. She’s scared, drumming her fingers against the sink and fidgeting. Nii-chan said it was her father, the Bridge Builder, who was being targeted. That’s why the Big Tree, Grinning Fox, and Ink Bird left to protect him. Just like she is supposed to protect the Wave Woman and Mean Boy.

“Ok,” Tatsuki reaches out but her eye is funny and she can’t tell how far away the plate actually is. She bumps into it but tightens her fingers before it falls and shatters on the floor. The Wave Woman reaches for another when something slams against the front door.

She freezes. Her face turns white.

A second thump.

“Tatsuki—” she’s reaching for the knife block when it bursts inward, and two men walk in.

_“You have to stay here and protect Tsunami-san and Inari, Tatsuki.”_

“You Tazuna’s daughter?” Eye Marks asks as he steps closer, hand on the hilt of his sword. “You’re coming with us.” Tatsuki slams the plate on the counter as hard as she can. It breaks and she grabs the sharpest piece. Its edge bites into her fingers but it’s nothing, _nothing_ compared to her small leg’s pain before Smiling Tree healed it or her forearms when Papa—

“Stay back!” The Wave Woman lifts the cleaver and holds it out in front of her.

“That’s real cute,” Coiling Tattoo grins. They stalk closer and Tatsuki grips the porcelain shard so hard blood starts to run down it. If they were outside, she could…she should be able to fight but not in here. She can’t charge at them either before they get to the Wave Woman, not with her small leg.

Eye Marks reaches out and the Wave Woman swings. The cleaver’s edge catches his arm and Eye Marks recoils with a hiss.

“Bitch!” He rushes in and the Wave Woman doesn’t raise it in time again. His fist meets her cheek and she slams back into the sink before collapsing with a cry. But Eye Marks is closer now. Tatsuki raises her shard and drives it into his arm, trying to hit the tender blue veins in his wrist. She misses, but her shard still digs into the meat of his forearm. He yanks his arm back and Tatsuki tries to keep a hold of the shard, to tear more skin and spill the blood faster. If there was enough blood, she could…she could…

Coiling Tattoo moves. He strides forward before Tatsuki can grab another shard and yanks her up, off the counter by her hair. She dangles, scalp burning as she scrabbles at Coiling Tattoo’s arm, digging her blunt nails in.

“You’re getting beat up by a woman and crippled child,” he sneers at Eye Marks and drops her to the ground. She lands wrong on her small leg, a flash of fire then chills racing up her body and she can’t stop her pained whimper. 

“Mom?” Mean Boy peeks around the wall and freezes when he sees the two enemies.

“Get out of here! Run Inari!” The Wave Woman yells and Tatsuki freezes, blood running cold.

 _“Get out of here Tatsuki! Run!”_ That’s the last thing Papa said before…before he…faceless shinobi with four squiggles on their masks flash in Tatsuki’s mind. She surges upward and grabs for the cleaver but Coiling Tattoo stomps on her arm before she can reach it.

The circling scars on her arms burn, burn, _burn_ and her vision goes black.

Papa was standing over her, crying. Papa was cutting into her forearms, the incisions ragged and rushed because Mama was in the sitting room with the shinobi come to kill them. Papa was whispering how sorry he is and how she had to be still and quiet as Tatsuki writhed and screamed behind the gag in her mouth. Papa was wrapping her arms, the bandages thick as her bones to try and stop the blood. Papa was pushing her out of the back door, “Get out of here Tatsuki! Run!” as the other door slid open and the shinobi stepped in.

Tatsuki stumbled, weak from blood loss and looked back. She saw Mama’s body in the sitting room, a pool of blood spreading around her. She saw the shinobi raise their blade and Papa’s pink scalded arms, devoid of the dragons, rose to protect himself. She saw his head split away from his neck, blood gushing out.

“Monster.” The shinobi raised their blade again, stained with her family’s blood.

 _Monster._ Tatsuki raised her hands, her fingers locked together in the dragon’s seal—

Tatsuki gasps and she hears the Wave Woman crying. She raises her hands, fingers locking together to form dragon, only for Coiling Tattoo to kick her in the chest. Tatsuki spasms and her teeth sink into her bottom lip. Her mouth fills with blood as she gasps for breath and her hands fall. She hears the Wave Woman speaking, but it’s distorted like she’s underwater.

“—bite my tongue off and kill myself!”

“Oh no, there’s _three_ of you. And you’re gonna watch while one of these brats die. Hey Tetsuo, think they can swim?” They laugh and Tatsuki struggles weakly as they tie her arms and legs together and pull her up.

Her eye focuses as they start to move. The Wave Woman is crying, blood dripping from her nose. Her hands are tied behind her and they shove her forward, towards the door. Tatsuki is slung over Coiling Tattoo’s shoulder, while Mean Boy is similarly tied and slung over Eye Marks’. He’s sobbing, loud enough that Eye Marks reaches up to smack him before barking at him to be quiet.

Tatsuki has one chance, she has to get it right. She stares at Mean Boy, drilling a hole into him until he looks up and over at her.

 _“Fight!”_ She snarls silently as tears drip down his cheeks. He shakes his head a little, looking down. Tatsuki growls, and Coiling Tattoo whacks her. She forces the second growl down in her throat and leans forward to bite at the ropes around her wrists. Her teeth are sharp enough to cut through the fibers but she’s slow. She can’t be slow.

_“You have to stay here and protect Tsunami-san and Inari, Tatsuki.”_

That’s what the Big Tree said. Tatsuki has to protect them. She failed when Father told her to run. She can’t fail now!

The ropes snap free as Coiling Tattoo takes his first step onto the dock. Tatsuki snarls and sinks her teeth into his bare back, as hard as she can. Coiling Tattoo yells and she tumbles from his shoulder, slamming hard into the wooden planks. It knocks the breath out of her lungs. She struggles to sit up, legs still tied together.

“You little—” Coiling Tattoo snarls and draws his sword. Eye Marks sighs and drops Mean Boy too.

“Inari!” The Wave Woman rushes for him, pushing him behind her as best she can to protect him with her body.

“Well, we know which one of you are swimming with the fishes after all,” Coiling Tattoo says and raises his sword.

“Tatsuki!!” She can hear Nii-chan’s voice. He’s too far away, still by the tree line with Smiling Tree.

It’s fine. She’s won.

Tatsuki grins, blood on her teeth as she raises her hands, fingers locked into dragon seal. The dragons on her arms stretch and coil, even with their shredded bodies but they’re sluggish and slow. Something in her screams that it shouldn’t be like this. But their mouths curl and open into wide screams on the backs of her hands, each eye lighting up with red light.

The water on either side of the dock starts to ripple and as she throws her hands out, two watery dragons rise from the sea. Their bodies are strong and powerful, except for jagged cuts in their necks where water is missing altogether. The scars on Tatsuki’s arms burn. She can feel the skin splitting open again, blood starting to leak out. Water splashes to the deck below them. Eye Marks and Coiling Tattoo raise their heads to stare up at the snarling beasts in horror.

Coiling Tattoo’s sword drops to the dock with a clatter. His fear-shrunken pupils dart down to meet hers.

“Monster—”

“Kill.” Tatsuki points at Eye Marks and Coiling Tattoo. The dragons shriek and dart towards their prey. Their watery fangs pierce through skin and forcefully knock both men off the dock before coiling around them and dragging them down, down, down. 

Tatsuki keeps the dragons as long as she can but she hasn’t called them since Papa’s death. She can’t hold them together. They dissipate underwater just as the dragons’ red eyes fade and their jaws snap shut on her hands. She slumps over, landing painfully on her shoulder as her arms tremble, too weak to hold her up. Nii-chan appears above her, black eyes wide and worried.

“Tatsuki.” He pulls her close to his chest. She can feel him trembling. “Hashi! Hurry up!”

“Did it. Protected ‘em, Nii-chan.” She curls one hand in his purple shirt and waits for Smiling Tree’s healing hands.

**Madara**

Sai’s bird swoops in just as Madara kisses Hashirama.

The trees lead them to a good-sized berry patch, whatever the fuck that _meant_ , with plenty of ripe bushes that had escaped the worst of the birds. They gathered several basketfuls, enough that the niggling worry, the exact same Madara always had when the Uchiha faced the possibility of a scarce winter, eased. They were still looking for mushrooms, but Madara was in a good enough mood, even with the humming tension under his skin, that when Hashirama tries to press a berry-stained kiss to his cheek, Madara turns his head and lets their lips meet.

And then Sai’s fucking bird cries.

“Is he still upset about the scroll thing?” Hashirama whines. “It was days ago!”

“And you should have known he’d hold a grudge,” Madara says, turning to scan the trees for the ink creature. Sai didn’t forgive or forget; he could hold a grudge a mile long. 

But when the bird shrieks again, an urgent cry both of them snap to attention. He spots the bird and raises his arm. It swoops down and flutters its wings as it lands, far too light to be natural, before opening its beak.

“Naruto spotted a boat full of strangers under the bridge and they don’t match the workers’ descriptions. Yamato-sensei thinks they could be Gato’s men. Come back immediately, we’re already en-route.” Sai’s voice spills from the bird’s beak and when it’s done, its mouth shuts and the ink melts away.

_Gato’s men._

Madara meets Hashirama’s eyes. _It’s time._

The immediate, straight-most path to the bridge, led them back to Tazuna’s house. It was pure timing and luck that had them missing the kidnappers the first time, and pure timing and luck that when they dart from the forest Madara sees two armed men hauling Tsunami, Tatsuki, and Inari off.

When Tatsuki escapes and her kidnapper draws his sword, Madara’s blood runs cold.

“Tatsuki!!”

He’s too far away. He’s not going to make it in time.

He bursts forward, ahead of Hashirama and reaching for a kunai on his thigh. It’s still not going to be enough.

_No._

Yuuto and Reo’s scouting mission gone wrong.

_No._

Kaito facing down the Kaguya.

_No._

Tatsuki—

But then she raises her hands and Madara can feel the ripple of chakra that spreads out and into the water. He nearly trips when the dragons rise up and drag the kidnappers to their deaths.

_Kekkei genkai. That has to be a kekkei genkai._

Tatsuki collapses and he can see the slippery blood running down her arms. But he’s there, he made it. “Tatsuki.” Madara pulls her close to his chest. She’s shivering, sweat dripping from her brow. There’s bruising on her face and her arms are a bloody mess. Her legs are still tied tightly together. Madara feels his temper spike. “Hashi! Hurry up!” Tatsuki will be fine, he reassures himself. She’s still breathing. Nothing looks critical. Hashirama can heal this.

“Did it. Protected ‘em, Nii-chan,” Tatsuki whispers, blood dripping from her mouth as she curls one hand in his shirt.

“You did it, you did a good job, imouto,” Madara praises, pulling her closer. He’s about to shout for Hashirama again when the other boy finally arrives, dropping to his knees, hands already glowing green.

Madara watches as the bruises disappear, the gash in her lip closes, the scars on her arms heal shut, and her breathing becomes less labored. He doesn’t fully relax until Hashirama pulls back and runs his hand down comfortingly over Madara’s spine.

“She’s okay. I healed the bruising, the cuts, and the fractures in her arm.” _They’re dead. They’re already dead. You can’t kill dead men._ Madara reminds himself as he reaches to untie her legs. “She’s just exhausted now.” Madara nods, one jerky motion and Hashirama slips away to heal Tsunami and Inari. _They were adults and they were going to kill her._ Tatsuki, who wasn’t the mark. Tatsuki, who didn’t have anything to do with the bridge. Tatsuki, a child, who was still going to be killed. Now. In this time of peace.

Madara knows the Uchiha targeted children on the battlefield. But it’s something he knows in a vague abstract sense because he never sees his clan’s adults cut them down. Father keeps him far, far away for fear that in the battle-haze he’ll lash out at them without realizing. It’d happened before when they had three-way battles and Madara mistakenly killed Hagoromo allies who targeted a Nara child.

“Madara,” Hashirama touches his shoulder, he must be finished healing the others, “we need to get to the bridge.” _Are you going to be okay?_

“Yeah…yeah,” he needs to focus. Yamato-sensei and Sai are already on their way, they can handle any of Gato’s men but…if it’s a large group of enemies and they were already at a disadvantage because of the workers…Madara picks Tatsuki up and turns towards Tsunami and Inari.

“I’ll take her, we’ll wait at Giichi’s,” Tsunami says and reaches out. Madara doesn’t let Tatsuki go. “She’ll be safe, I’ll hide her arms. No one will know.”

 _What?_ Why do her arms matter now?

Tatsuki is unconscious, he can’t bring her into battle…But he can’t stay with her either. Sai and Naruto are on the bridge. Yamato-sensei, Sakura, and Sasuke too.

Finally, with great reluctance, he passes Tatsuki into Tsunami’s arms.

“A-and I’ll protect her! S-since she saved me this time,” Inari stutters, grabbing onto Tsunami’s pants. Madara smiles, but only because Hashirama nudges him. Even then it probably looks like a grimace. Internally, he prays there’s no second attack.

With Tatsuki unconscious or exhausted…

But there’s no more time to think about that now. They have to get to the bridge. Together, he and Hashirama jump out onto the water, racing towards the bridge. Madara knows where it is, but when they round the curve of the island it doesn’t rise above them, instead it’s shrouded completely in mist.

_Zabuza._

**Sai**

Sai is _not_ going to admit how much he wishes his two annoying teammates were here right now. Naruto, who is _still_ the most annoying of Madara’s pet-projects, at least the latest little beast is small and Sai still might be able to get her on his side, yells and launches himself right into the middle of the fight with no discretion. He, at the very _least,_ manages to throw a kunai and knock the, now almost definitely fake, hunter nin from his weird mirrors, but in doing so immediately gives away their position. And considering the bigger threat is the _twenty fucking rogue nin_ on the bridge, plus _Zabuza_ , the small victory is not worth it in Sai’s oh-so-humble opinion.

All of the rogue nin he can see are wearing slashed Kiri headbands, probably more of Zabuza’s group. Sai doesn’t know _how_ exactly, but he feels like this is Madara and Hashirama’s fault. _They’re like some kind of discount Akatsuki._ He thinks as he and Yamato drop down next to Kakashi and his pack of dogs.

They’ve been managing to hold them all back on their own, with only Sakura as the final guard between the enemies and the entire crew pressed up against the railing. A few are injured, one man is clutching at his arm and another is on the ground but none of them are dead. Yet. In front Kakashi is panting, visibly bleeding as he faces Zabuza who’s in the middle of the group, looking all to spry considering he was at death’s door last week. The only sign _anything_ was amiss are the new bandages wrapped around his right arm. The dogs prowl around the other rogues, growling at any who come too close. A few of them are bleeding, nothing serious, and they outnumber the dogs two to one. Behind them Sakura is shaking but holding steady, a kunai gripped in both hands.

It’s not great odds. If this was a ROOT mission, Sai would back off, let them kill the workers and then pick them off one by one in smaller more manageable numbers.

_This isn’t a ROOT mission._

Sai doesn’t know how he feels about that…

When they land, the standoff comes to an end. Yamato slams his hands together and two wood clones separate from his back as Sai pulls out a scroll and draws two tomoe lions. They leap from the paper and pounce on one of the rogue nin, tearing into her. The dogs snarl and leap forward just as Zabuza and Kakashi clash again and heavy mist spreads across the bridge.

Great, it’s even worse odds now. Yamato’s mokuton is limited this far away from land and while the heavy mist isn’t rain, Sai’s ink beasts still waver, it takes more concentration to keep them together than normal, and now they can’t _see._

 _Hurry up you idiots!_ He thinks and draws his tanto as three rogue dart from the mist, rushing towards him. 

**Sasuke**

He has to get out of the mirror prison and help Kakashi and Sakura. In the gaps, he can see all the rogue nin that _weren’t_ here until Sasuke announced he’d fight the fake hunter and he got trapped in this cage. Even if the rogue nin are weak, which is…unlikely, the sheer number is overwhelming and—

Sasuke hisses as more senbon cut into his skin. The fake hunter nin isn’t targeting his vital points and the thin gashes are more irritating than debilitating, but he can’t get out. Anytime he tries the needles force him back.

_Dammit!_

“Surrender and I’ll let you live. You are not our target, you do not need to die,” the hunter says, voice pleading. He slips halfway out of his mirror when Sasuke’s knees finally buckle after three more attacks and he collapses to the ground. _Get up. Get up!_ He scrapes his hands against the frosted concrete below him. “Do you understand? I’m willing—”

A kunai slams into his mask, disorienting the hunter. He falls out of the mirror with a cry of pain. Sasuke turns to see Naruto rush into the prison, hand outstretched towards him.

“Come on, bastard! Stop wastin’ time in here, there’s like twenty guys outside!” Naruto complains as Sasuke knocks his hand away. He’s not being rescued by _Naruto_ for gods’ sake. But before he can tell the damn dobe that, senbon slam into Naruto’s outstretched arm, three needles going straight through his arm and out the other side. “Sasuke…” He’s staring at the needles in wide-eyed terror. Blood starts to drip down his arm.

“You two are trying my patience,” the hunter growls, slipping back into his mirror. “I don’t want to kill you, but for Zabuza, for his dream, I _will_.”

It becomes painfully clear the hunter was just toying with him before.

Sasuke can’t see the hunter move properly and it takes all of his focus to dance out of the way of the senbon. And even then, for every two he avoids, one sinks into his skin. No longer flesh wounds, these twist and bury deep causing hot flashes of pain to radiate up his body. Naruto isn’t nearly as fast. After he got stuffed like a pincushion the first time, he forcibly straightened the fingers of his skewered arm and used his shadow clones as a shield, forcing the hunter to try and guess which was the real Naruto. It bought seconds at best and was a giant waste of chakra.

They can’t keep this up.

With every attack, they’re getting weaker, slower as the hunter continues to skewer them. They don’t even have a plan.

Another flash and more needles sink into their skin, even more vicious, and this time they both end up flat on their backs.

Sasuke gasps, chest heaving as he stares up at the mirror above them.

“Think…gotta think, how do I get out of this?” Naruto mutters to himself, leaning over to cough up blood.

Faster. Sasuke needs to be faster. He can barely see the hunter’s movements but he has no time to react to them. He’ll be able to see their deaths, but not raise his arms in time to stop it. Would it help if Naruto was outside? If they coordinated an attack, inside and out would it even do anything?

Sasuke tried a katon and the ice mirrors didn’t so much as sweat.

 _We have to think of something. How long can Kakashi and Sakura hold out?_ He didn’t know where Team 13 was, didn’t _want_ to know where they were.

“Naruto, get up.” Sasuke digs his sandals into the concrete and stands.

“I can’t…I can’t run,” Naruto pants, pushing himself to his knees. Where’s he going with this? “You…you’re faster than me,” an understatement, “this is gonna be my last thing. Make it count, yeah?” Naruto grins, sweat and blood dripping down his face. “And you might, uh, wanna look towards Sakura-chan.”

“What—”

Naruto grabs the needles in his arms and rips them out. “Kage bunshin no jutsu!” Five Naruto’s pop into existence, no different than the last time he used them as shields. But now the clones turn inward and run through signs Sasuke recognizes but hasn’t seen in _years._ “Katon: hikari!”

_Light? Madara taught him Light?_

The _child’s_ jutsu?! At its strongest, Light is a glowing orb. But the Narutos don’t stop pouring chakra into it and Sasuke realizes what this dumbass’s plan is just as they all push their hands inward and, with a sharp twist, the brightening lights coalesce into one giant orb.

_Flash bomb._

Sasuke looks away as the jutsu bursts and the fake hunter nin covers his eyes with a cry.

_Run._

Sasuke turns, but he doesn’t move more than a few steps forward. He doesn’t know if attacking the mirrors from the outside will work. It could. He’s pretty sure it will. But…

If he leaves Naruto here the dobe will die. Light wasn’t a combat jutsu, and he poured _all_ of his chakra into it. He probably can’t even sit up properly now.

_It doesn’t matter!_

Sasuke’s goal is to get stronger, strong enough to kill _him._ If he dies here, he won’t avenge his clan. He’ll have failed them all!

But he can’t stop himself from turning, running back towards Naruto.

“I’m not letting myself be outdone by _you_!” He yells, yanking out a senbon from his shoulder and jumping in front of Naruto as the hunter launches more. His eyes burn, burn, _burn_ and Sasuke realizes with a rush that he can _see_ the movements, can barely _move_ fast enough to knock the senbon away before they hit. It’s not much but it’s enough.

_This is…_

“…sharingan. I thought I felt a kinship, we’re both tools…but it doesn’t matter. You’ve still lost.” The voice comes from behind him and Sasuke twists to see more senbon. _Every direction._ He realizes with a split second, cold certainty. The hunter is jumping with one last burst, this is his finishing attack.

Sasuke can see the senbon.

He can deflect the senbon.

But not from every direction with only one thin needle. To do that he’d need—

The topmost mirror shatters, raining down shards of ice. Sasuke looks up to see two sharingan eyes, a savage grin, and—

“Uchihagaeshi!” A sweep of the Ghost’s gunbai, lost to time. It sends the senbon flying back to the hunter nin, cracking the ice mirrors where they impact.

Sasuke falls back next to Naruto.

Madara straightens, gunbai raised. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what Hashirama's gift was? :^)
> 
> As for Tatsuki's section, kekkei genkai (and hiden techniques) are endlessly fascinating to me. Not as 'let's see who has the most op ability' but in how they're viewed/treated by society, how the kekkei genaki manifests and affects them, how in-universe they compare/relate to other kekkei genkai, etc. I could go on but you get the point. My favorite kind of kekkei genkai are ones with a "physical" component, Tatsuki's tattoos, the Hyuuga and Uchiha's eyes, because underlying it is a question of when /how does the kekkei genkai become compromised and then how does an individual come to terms with that (in their fighting style as well as any personal connections to their technique). This is the general "idea" that I wanted to explore when I created Tatsuki, her scars are permanent, and they permanently affect her ability to use her kekkei genkai. She's young but she still has a connection to it and instincts that she was, quite literally, born knowing but the knowledge that it's all just a bit...off from what she should be able to do. (And of course to eventually get to Kiri's blood purges actually affecting a wide range of families and the fallout of that. I think it's completely possible to have people flee from the country, try to settle down in an anonymous no-name land with no hidden village only to have the hunter nin sent after you.)
> 
> Now as for Tatsuki's...interesting naming convention...well, I figured if I was going full force with this OC and my fascination with kekkei genkai, might as well put in another fascination: naming conventions. This is the anthropology degree coming out again, but god names are just so *interesting*. You ever think about that? Like, here are syllables and patterns that convey identity and they get so specific and vary everywhere in the world. Then, adjacent to that, you have titles and nicknames, in some languages different variations attached to the word "you" and it's all just...AMAZING. 
> 
> Tatsuki's is inspired by the idea that the immediate family is named by denoting relational status (Mama, Papa, Nii-chan) plus, in the right situation using given names, while others are given descriptor names that, in her clan, were *usually* agreed upon the entire clan as a "main" name but a person could pick up various others that sort of "map out" relationships and vary over time. Additionally, and I'm sorry if anyone is translating this into a language that doesn't use articles, using "the" denotes speaking to an adult/widely respected person while not using articles is reserved for children/people you're purposefully disrespecting/or people very close to you, one step away from family. (Why Tatsuki calls Tenzo "the Big Tree" Sai is "Ink Bird" and Gato's thugs were "Eye Marks" and "Coiling Tattoo") If the name is a physical characteristic, it's usually an immediate prominent feature of the person when they are named, but more "symbolic" names come from getting to know them a bit better first and they also reflect the speaker's current view of a person (Inari was originally "Quiet Boy" but changed to "Mean Boy" when he said Gato was going to kill both teams). For the other members: Sasuke is "Scowling Grouch" Kakashi is "the Lazy Dog" and Sakura is "Loud Flower" it's going to be...fun when she starts directly calling them these (and you better believe Hashirama is going to capitalize on the fact that "Lazy Dog" sounds like (and sorta is) an insult.) Madara, if he wasn't family, would have been "Warm Heart" bc (traditional) dragons are nothing but giant water snakes with a few lizard qualities thrown in and by god Tatsuki will not let go of her human heat generator. (This is also why she sleeps with her eyes open, snakes don't have eyelids. Tatsuki *does* have eyelids, but they get...wonky when she's asleep.)
> 
> The next chapter will be posted next Sunday, February 28th.
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://mira--mira.tumblr.com/) for more content!
> 
> Thank you for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! It means a lot to me! <3  
> 


	11. Land of Waves: X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life pro-tip: If you have a car and it has a tire pressure sensor on the dash and it says one tire is low on pressure, don't assume that the tire it *says* is low on pressure is the one about to give, it can be any. Check *all* your tires. Yeah...guess who blew out a tire on the highway this week? I'm safe, don't worry. I pulled over to the shoulder as soon as I felt it give and smelled the rubber so no injuries (except to my wallet), but I didn't realize the sensor could be off by a bit so I didn't check everything when I should have. Stay safe everyone!
> 
> The first part of this chapter is sweet and wholesome. The second part is not. 
> 
> Chapter warnings: death, blood/violence, animal injury (no death), start of a panic attack/PTSD flashback 
> 
> (Someone is not having a good time.)
> 
> Enjoy!

**Hashirama**

“You think Zabuza killed the hunter nin and escaped? Or were they working together the entire time?” Hashirama asks as he and Madara race over the water towards the misty bridge. Personally, he’s leaning towards the second. Especially if _Zabuza_ is here and fighting. Hashirama knew his own strength. He would’ve needed immediate, constant medical care from an experienced med-nin to be in any sort of fighting shape after only a week.

“Allies,” Madara agrees as they skid to a stop by one of the support pillars. Hashirama crouches down, hands cupped together. Madara puts his foot in the cradle of his hands and Hashirama launches him upward. He flies up before landing on the railing with hardly a sound.

Hashirama squints through the mist until he sees Madara’s blurry form wave and stretch out his arm. He gathers chakra in the soles of his feet and jumps up, catching Madara’s hand. With a grumble about how heavy he is, Madara hauls him up to the railing next to him.

Up here the mist is so thick Hashirama can’t see anything beyond Madara and the railing. They’re closer to the Wave’s side. He’d hoped the fighting would be centered here so he and Yamato could use their mokuton, but all the sounds of combat are further down.

“Can you see anything?” Hashirama whispers. Madara, sharingan active, shakes his head. He’s not surprised. The sharingan isn’t the byakugan as Madara reminded him on more than one occasion when Hashirama would lose things next to the river and needle Madara into helping him find them. “A katon to burn away the mist?”

“Nearly useless unless I want to risk burning or scalding everyone,” Madara gestures ahead.

“Well, I might have something.” Hashirama reaches for his battle scroll and unrolls it, hand pressed to the seal. A muffled yell echoes across the bridge. It sounds close.

“That’s Naruto,” Madara squints, brows furrowed. “Are those…mirrors?” He points but no matter how hard Hashirama looks, he can’t see anything in the mist. He can hear the metallic _click_ of senbon falling to the ground. Or he thinks he can over the sounds of clashing steel, snarling dogs, and someone laughing further down.

_The hunter used senbon._ A good weapon for faking death, but still fatal if they hit the right points. He can’t make wooden constructs over the water to block them. Madara needs a way to clear the mist without using katons.

_Well, I guess I’ll just find something else for his birthday._

“Here,” Hashirama catches Madara’s attention before he can jump away, “it was supposed to be a surprise, for your birthday.” He activates the scroll’s seal and pulls out the gunbai. Even in the mist, its shape is unmistakable and Madara’s jaw drops as he takes it from Hashirama.

“What…how…this is—this is _mine_. Where did you find it?” He gives an experimental swing. It must be at least passable, Hashirama thinks as Madara’s mouth curls into a grin.

“Uh, I made it. Or at least the raw materials and then paid a fansmith in Suna to assemble it.”

Really, nearly falling to his death off cliffs tended to work out pretty well for him. After the first time, their names had been revealed but Madara agreed to keep meeting. It was awkward at first but Hashirama was nothing if not optimistic and determined to keep his best friend. It was worth it. Sometimes, Hashirama wished he’d nearly fallen off the cliff even earlier. Because while he knew there had always been some distance between them, secrets they had to keep, he didn’t realize how big that gulf had been until it was gone. They still didn’t talk about clan affairs, politics, or specific details of the war, but Madara started to talk about the Uchiha. Casually. A few things here and there were before he’d just keep quiet.

That was how Hashirama found out about the gunbai.

Madara liked weapons. _Really_ liked them. Collecting them, looking at them, cleaning them, using them, anything to do with them. And at the very top of his very serious, very informal hierarchy was the gunbai.

Madara didn’t talk about it often, but when he did, he could go on for _hours._ Everything to do with it, the history, the legend of how it was made, the fancy clan ceremonies surrounding it, its combat capabilities, how much _he_ loved it. Madara was very passionate. And maybe, just maybe, there had been a few times when they met and Hashirama was feeling terrible from a recent battle or yet another argument with Butsuma that he’d purposefully bring it up just to see Madara light up and start lecturing him on the single best and greatest weapon of all time.

When they fell through the rip, the gunbai had been lost. It would have been presented to Madara as the head of the Uchiha clan, otherwise. He had been very clear on the symbolic precedent of the gunbai and the weight of the Uchiha head wielding it. The Sarutobi geezer should have given it to him if it survived the Massacre. But, because Hashirama didn’t trust the Sarutobi geezer, on one of the rare times he was shopping alone while Madara stayed back with Yamato, Hashirama went to the Uchiha compound.

He didn’t enter. It wouldn’t feel right without Madara.

But what little he could see…it was a nightmare. The gate surrounding it worn and in disarray. The rotting land beyond with its hollowed broken buildings, shattered glass, and scattered objects in the street. Faded and ripped uchiwas dotted the buildings and lanterns, the proud symbol tarnished and unkempt. It looked like no one had entered since the Massacre, the district frozen and condemned from that night onward…

Hashirama didn’t want to think about why this compound, a _founding clan’s_ compound, was pushed to the very isolated edge of Konoha with absolutely nothing around it. He knew how settlements were supposed to grow. The Senju were allied with several civilian settlements and Uzushio. This wasn’t natural.

Looking at the center street beyond the main gate hurt, a hollow ache under his sternum. Especially as he realized the stone was ever so slightly discolored as if the blood had time to congeal and stain before it was washed away. He could picture the bodies all too easily, countless battles flashing behind his eyes to fill the void. He couldn’t imagine what Madara would see, looking at this. If the entire compound was like the main street, of course the gunbai had been lost.

But even if the original was lost…Hashirama probably knew more about it than any other non-Uchiha. For the rikudo’s sake, he probably knew more about it than some _Uchiha._

Carved from a ritualistic spirit tree, assembled when the sun was at its peak, immediately bathed for an entire night under the light of a full moon, before the tomoe were painted on. Implied that all of this was done by an Uchiha but well…Hashirama would have to be enough.

Their mission to Suna aligned with a full moon once Hashirama secured part of that extra week, and he knew the special paint he should use based on Madara’s past lectures too. It was a bit awkward to gather everything, the paint needed an Uchiha’s blood as its primary base, he’d certainly done stranger things before.

Then it was just the spirit tree. _That_ was the problem, the part of the original gunbai’s creation that had been completely lost to myth. Madara had never mentioned an actual location or remnant of the tree species or anything. Hashirama couldn’t press him for more information now either, Madara would immediately figure out what he was planning.

But…he had the mokuton.

So, trying to be as ‘spiritual’ as possible, he concentrated on growing individual mokuton trees instead of his usual forest’s worth. It was hard. It felt way too much like trying to get the frog-fox just right only with the added fact that he didn’t actually know what he was trying to make. What separated a spirit tree from a normal one?

He went through nearly fifty before a weird tree caught his attention.

It was oddly twisted for a tree and had no branches. If he squinted it looked like a weird combination of vine and tree. Its top was bare and Hashirama couldn’t help but feel something was…missing. Besides the total lack of leaves. But it felt weird and made his skin crawl to look at, so therefore it was probably the most spiritual of the bunch! He cut it down and, despite the weird exterior, the inside looked like normal wood. It was a hassle to drag and seal into his battle scroll but he managed.

But once the gunbai was complete, Hashirama teetered between apprehension and excitement when he thought about showing it to Madara. He didn’t want to overstep but he wanted to give him something special, something meaningful.

Looking at him now, the worst of that apprehension fades.

“You…you made… _Hashi_ ,” Madara’s voice cracks and right now is the _worst_ time to get distracted, but when Madara leans forward and presses their lips together, every other thought flies out of Hashirama’s head.

_He likes it._

Madara grabs his haori with his free hand and presses harder against Hashirama’s mouth.

_He really_ _likes it!_

And then the world explodes in light.

Hashirama squints and Madara recoils with a hiss, sharingan flickering out. In the fading light, he can see shadows against the mist. Some…weird structure that might be the ‘mirrors’ Madara mentioned with several figures, or Naruto and multiple clones, on the ground. Beyond them, at least more than fifteen human shadows and multiple dogs.

_It_ was _a boat full of enemy ninja._

“I’ll get Naruto and clear the mist. You pushing forward?” Madara asks, absently smoothing out Hashirama’s haori as he pulls away.

“Yeah, if they’re guarding the workers…” that’d be the real danger here. Making sure everyone got out alive. Madara nods and presses one last kiss to his cheek before he raises the gunbai and dashes off into the mist.

Hashirama barely catches himself before he swoons off the railing like an idiot. He rolls up his battle scroll and starts running towards the mass of shadows he saw.

Sometimes, Hashirama _really_ wishes he was a sensor like Madara and Tobirama. Because with this mist, he doesn’t know who his enemy is until he’s _right_ next to them. He’s relying on his medical ninjutsu and wood clones instead of his katana because there’s too great a chance for error.

Hashirama tries to talk to the rogues, tries to give them the opportunity to surrender. None have accepted. He still tries, leaves the offer open until he’s ducked under boiling hot suiton streams, jumped over portions of the bridge the turn to water beneath his feet, dodged weapons thrown at him, and has the enemy pinned to the ground. His two clones capture a hand each, paralyzing each by severing the flexor tendons in the palm with a quick burst of medical ninjutsu before numbing the appendage. Hashirama places his own green glowing hand on the enemy’s bare throat.

He doesn’t want to do this.

They weren’t given assignation contracts for these rogue Kiri nin, only Zabuza. But he’s here to protect the workers. That’s his priority. When they refuse to surrender, spitting and cursing at him, Hashirama directs his chakra inward.

Down the coiling chakra paths until his chakra seeps into their heart.

It’s not hard to kill someone with medical ninjutsu. Purposefully or accidentally. Hashirama knows dozens of ways from assassination to interrogation techniques. Prolonging pain or easing it, they were two sides of the same coin. The trick to this technique is to make it as painless as possible. He could rush it and command his chakra to swell in the coils until the organ stretched and burst from the pressure but that always seemed…harsh. It only took a few more seconds this way, and he’d prefer not to cause needless suffering.

Instead, the enemy only feels a pinch of discomfort in their chest before his chakra seeps fully into their heart and blocks the blood flow. There’s only a flash of realization, of fear in their eyes and then they pass out. They won’t wake up. Dead within minutes if Hashirama doesn’t resuscitate them.

He’s killed two rogues and is finishing up the third when a woman stumbles next to him in the mist.

“S-shiori—” The man under him stutters before his heart stops.

_Uh oh_. The woman’s mouth twists into a snarl and she doesn’t hesitate to whip several kunai at him. Hashirama, kneeling next to the dead man’s body, can’t dodge properly. A clone moves instead, putting itself between him and the kunai. They meet their mark and the clone pops into a misshapen hunk of wood.

He sees something weird on one of the kunai and grabs it from the wood as he jumps back.

It’s wet. A clear liquid but the wrong consistency for water. 

Poison.

“I’m going to kill you, you fucking brat!” The woman yells, more kunai in hand her hands. She throws them and Hashirama dodges, only to narrowly avoid a kunai thrown from _above._

_What kind of jutsu is this?_

He can’t see anything in the mist.

“Would you consider surrendering?” Hashirama asks, hoping beyond hope that Madara would clear the mist _now._ Poisons…didn’t really affect him properly but if it was a paralyzing agent it’d still take his body precious seconds, if not minutes for a concentrated dose, to fight back. Out here without the mokuton to make cover…poison was the one thing he _really_ didn’t want to face.

Shiori doesn’t answer, instead, she throws more kunai.

Hashirama dodges and this time _two_ more dart in from the sides. He twists out of the way but one cuts through his haori, narrowly missing his side. The clone doesn’t dodge in time and pops.

_She seems experienced too._

Hashirama still wasn’t fully comfortable with the village’s classification system, but the previous three enemies made mistakes and had obvious holes in their defenses. Chunin, not jonin.

This woman is a jonin.

And she has an unknown jutsu that he can’t distinguish at first glance.

Hashirama presses his hands together and two more clones separate from his back. His skin itches, he has enough chakra, but the more he makes away from the forest and the plants the weaker they’ll be. More like regular clones instead of solid ones. 

He’s really starting to hate this bridge.

Shiori watches him with narrowed eyes as she pulls more kunai from her pouch. Hashirama finally draws his katana and rushes forward, both clones on either side of him, as fast as he can.

She’s not expecting it, but she doesn’t startle. He deflects the kunai thrown at him and the clone on his right jumps behind him to take the kunai thrown at his back from above. The left one darts in front to grab her arm.

Immediately, Shiori drives a kunai into its head but the split second is enough. The wood deforms but it keeps its shape and keeps ahold of her arm for that precious second Hashirama needs to close the distance and—

He sees the kunai coming at his unprotected side.

He tries to change course but it slices into his arm as his blade bites into Shiori’s side.

Hashirama skids to a stop, free hand pressed tightly over his shoulder.

_Cut it off. Get it out._

He feels his body responding and the limb starting to go numb. The chakra twists under his hand to form a chakra tourniquet. As long as he keeps it from his core—

Hashirama jumps back, desperately trying to avoid the sudden rain of kunai from the misty sky. Shiori, on one knee, holds her hands together in an unfamiliar sign as the blades rain down.

He’s not fast enough. He can’t keep this up—

Hashirama’s back slams into the bridge’s railing.

A trap. This was a trap.

Five last kunai dart down, closing off his escape.

_Dammit._ His chakra surges up, he’ll take the blow and recover. The cut on his arm has given his body a few extra seconds head-start and the mist provides him cover too—

The kunai don’t land.

A gale of wind rips across the bridge, dispelling the mist and sending the blades flying. Hashirama can see the entire battlefield, he can see the dozens of watery hands floating above him, he can see Shiori bent over on both knees as she grasps at her side.

Hashirama doesn’t hesitate. He switches his sword to his other hand and rushes back in. Shiori’s head snaps up. Eyes wide. She was confident the last attack was a finishing one.

He closes the distance and brings his katana down over her neck as she scrambles to grab a kunai. Too late. The angle is off, it’s not a beheading but it’s close. Blood drips to the ground and Hashirama turns away to look out over the battlefield.

Four dead enemies behind him.

Two lay torn apart on the ground with large black pools next to them, reminiscent of Sai’s ink jutsu. The boy’s currently fighting off two other rogue-nin with one of Yamato’s clones. One rogue is dead on the ground next to them. Sai is bleeding, gashes on his arms and one cut above his eye that’s gushing blood, but he’s still standing.

Yamato and his other wood clone are next to Sakura, in front of the cowering bridge workers. His view isn’t the best, Yamato constructed a low stone wall to prevent stray projectiles from hitting them, but he doesn’t think any of the workers are dead. Some are injured, he can see it in the way they hold themselves, but there’s no obvious corpse.

Hashirama raises his numb hand to his mouth and whistles loudly.

It’s loud and startling enough that some of the nine remaining rogues pause and turn towards him.

“If any of you would like to surrender and live, please do it now!”

Some of them laugh.

Some of them look past him at their four dead allies’ bodies and start to seethe.

Three use the distraction to rush towards the workers.

Yamato’s clone engages one, tanto clashing against kunai. But there are two left and only Yamato and Sakura between the workers.

Hashirama sees what’s about to happen. Kakashi and his dogs are too far away, holding the other rogues and Zabuza back. Yamato’s third clone is supporting Sai.

It’s two on two but Sakura isn’t prepared for this fight, she can’t partner properly with Yamato.

Hashirama starts running, but he’s too far away. Madara’s too far away.

One rogue pulls ahead as Yamato rushes through a suiton jutsu. His water stream hits the first rogue center chest and blows him back. But the second dashes in from the side, tanto raised. Yamato is turning but he’s too slow. He’s not going to make it. It’ll strike his neck or chest and there are enemy ninja and dogs between him and Hashirama and Hashirama has no idea how practiced Yamato is in self-stabilizing.

But the tanto doesn’t land.

The second rogue stumbles and nearly trips forward.

Sakura’s hands are pressed against the rogue’s back. She adhered them together, like a leaf on her skin. He wasn’t expecting her weight. He overbalanced. Yamato turns and his fists connect with the man’s chest and neck. He grabs the rogue’s tanto and turns it against him. Blood sprays and the rogue falls. His clone finishes its fight as Hashirama draws closer and closer to the pack and the Hatake and Zabuza at its center.

The dogs have killed at least four rogues but there’s only a handful left. They’re injured and bleeding, low on chakra. Hashirama knows they’re proper summons, the Hatake has a contract, but it still makes him wary. Hungry summons are a danger to everyone around them.

They’ve been indispensable but dread and relief mix within him in equal parts when Pakkun, the only ninken Hashirama recognizes, coughs and croaks out, “Sorry boss, we’re done.” The summons disappear in a puff of smoke. Sai’s two opponents take the chance to break away and regroup with Zabuza. Yamato’s clone catches him and sets him down with the workers behind the barrier.

Only three rogues and Zabuza remain.

_Enough. This is enough._

It feels too much like a Senju battlefield. Too many close calls with Hashirama terrified to let anyone out of his sight.

This ends if Zabuza dies.

Hashirama changes course.

The Hatake has held him back for the entire fight, but they’re both cut up and bloody. Zabuza’s bare chest is covered in small kunai slashes and a burn spreads up his shoulder. The Hatake has a long gash along his ribs. He’s favoring that side, one hand pressed against the injury.

Hashirama’s arm is still numb but he can do this.

He rushes forward and Zabuza turns in time to bring Kubikiribōchō down and lock it with Hashirama’s blade.

Zabuza looks worse up close.

Sweat gathers on his brow, sliding down his cheeks as his glassy eyes meet Hashirama’s. His arms are healed but he’s not fully recovered. The Hatake only wore him down further. Even without Madara here, this isn’t going to be a long drawn-out fight.

“You…why do I recognize you?” Zabuza mutters as Hashirama pushes chakra into his good arm and shoves the man back. His eyes catch on Hashirama’s sword. “The brat in the mask…you’re one of the brats in the masks. The strong one, not the fast one.”

“Wait Hashirama—” The Hatake’s talking but Hashirama’s not listening, he’s running forward to meet Zabuza’s blade again. He’s weakening, while Hashirama is slowly gaining back strength in his arm. With another chakra-powered push, he shoves Zabuza off. The man goes skidding back.

The three remaining rogues turn on the Hatake as one of Yamato’s clones, or maybe the real one, separate and rush forward to help him.

_This is it._

Hashirama rushes towards Zabuza, bent over and open as he tries to catch his breath. Hashirama raises his katana, mirroring the exact position Madara was in a week ago. He brings the blade down, but there’s a crack of ice or glass and it’s not Zabuza it’s—

_A child._

The hunter nin. He recognizes the clothes but he doesn’t have the mask.

_Stop. Stop!_

But it’s too late. His arm is still numb, he can’t correct the swing. The blade, aimed at Zabuza’s chest with all of Hashirama’s strength behind it cuts clean through the boy’s neck, through his collarbone and most of his ribs. The edge very well could have caught his heart. That certainly would explain the sudden gush of blood that covers Hashirama from head to waist.

He’s dead.

The boy’s dead.

Dead.

Dead.

_Dead_.

Hashirama can’t heal the dead.

The world tilts. He’s frozen in place as the blood drips down his cheeks in a mockery of tears. The katana in his hands shifts, a different hilt, a different wrapping and it’s not his haori but the clunky armor the Senju wore into battle. There’s no sound but a screeching static that sounds too much like steel and his own heartbeat thudding in his ears. His breathing becomes labored and he can smell the battlefield filth.

Hashirama wants to let go of the hilt but he can’t. He can’t move.

His vision blurs and it’s not the hunter on the other end of his blade, but a Yamanaka child, a Nara, a Shimura, a Hatake, an Uchiha.

He blinks and it’s Kawarama. Itama. _Tobirama._

_No._

_No, no, no!_

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Why’d he…why’d the hunter jump in front of the blade? There are no more kids killing kids. The village, the village is here this _can’t—_

Zabuza starts to laugh or maybe he’s sobbing.

He raises his sword.

And he brings it down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hashirama is the one not having a good time this chapter...
> 
> I think we rarely get to see Hashirama reacting to the horrors of his childhood in canon or fanon and the implication that he had killed children before. You don't...you don't come out of that unscathed. No matter how happy/positive/optimistic you are. That and I'm also a sucker for Hahsirama and Madara supporting each other through their ups and downs and I see a lot of Hashirama supporting Madara in fics but not a lot of Madara supporting Hashirama. Here we'll get both. Two birds, one stone. 
> 
> Also, RIP Haku (also not having a good time). I know a few people were hoping he'd live and that's fair but...it was Madara who confronted him. Madara and his *oh so famous* social skills. Yeaaaaah. He tried. He failed. He kinda made it worse. You'll see that next chapter. 
> 
> The next chapter will be posted on Sunday, March 7th. 
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://mira--mira.tumblr.com/) for more content!
> 
> Thank you for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! <3


	12. Land of Waves: XI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's technically on Monday, not today, but happy (early) Women's Day! Feminism feels like a never-ending work in progress but I love you, ladies! Take care of yourselves! 💖
> 
> Also, I decided to tag PTSD/mental trauma just to give people a heads-up and realized I forgot to tag found family...for shame. That's like 70% of this fic 😂 And, friendly (heartbreaking) reminder, Madara is at the peak of his idealism/optimism regarding everything right now...no reason to keep that in mind. None at all. 
> 
> Chapter warnings: death, blood/violence, non-POV PTSD flashback/panic attack, vomiting
> 
> Enjoy!

**Madara**

Madara crashes through the topmost ice mirror and sees senbon flying towards Sasuke and Naruto from every direction. Several already lay at Sasuke’s feet, deflected, but there’s no way he can turn and reach all of the new ones in time with only one thin needle.

But Madara can.

He flips and swings the gunbai, excitement burning through him. It’s exactly like his. He hasn’t had time to inspect it thoroughly but the only immediate difference Madara can see is the fan’s wood is tinted slightly purple instead of yellow. Beyond that, and the fact that it’s new, the gunbai is _exactly_ the same. He has no idea how Hashirama did it.

“Uchihagaeshi!” Madara catches the senbon and sends them back towards the mirrors. He lands, crouched on the ground. The needles imbed themselves in the ice, cracking and splintering it and he stands just as Sasuke collapses next to Naruto.

_This is a kekkei genkai._ The chakra he can sense is too…weird for anything else. Madara keeps his eyes on the hunter nin, who’s frozen stiff in his mirror, but he nudges Naruto’s side with his sandal.

“Ughh, Madara-sensei?”

Madara grunts and Naruto pushes himself upright with a tremendous amount of effort. He can’t do anything more, even that simple action has left him panting and shaking. Chakra exhaustion. Madara can still sense the dregs that cling to him, running weakly in his body. He’s at his limit, any more and he’ll run dry and die.

He and Sasuke both are full of needles but those at least don’t look immediately life-threatening.

“Can you stand?” His eyes dart to Sasuke and the hunter throws more senbon. Madara blocks them with an absent swing.

Sasuke doesn’t answer. His wide, unblinking eyes are fixed on the gunbai. _Oh, fuck no, he’s not getting the fan._ If it was Madara, he would call another clan head duel just to have a chance to win back the clan head’s gunbai. But this isn’t that. This one is _his._

“Sasuke.” He nudges the stunned boy’s leg, a little harder than he probably should, and blocks another round of senbon. Finally, Sasuke’s eyes snap up to his.

_Sharingan._

“Can you stand? Also, you’re draining your reserves keeping it on,” Madara taps next to his own red eyes. Sasuke blinks and his eyes turn black. He slowly nods his head and Madara takes that as answer enough. “Great. Then get up and grab Naruto.”

The mirrors and senbon are still a problem. The hunter won’t willingly let them leave this trap. Well, he has to clear the mist anyway. 

Time to really test this gunbai.

Madara raises the fan and pushes his chakra into it. It fills, just like the old one did until it's humming and pulsing with power. “Fūton: Aorareta-fū!” He swings it with a grin and a gale of shrieking wind follows. The mirrors burst and shatter, the hunter fleeing to the ones behind him. Madara twists, pushes more chakra into the fan, and sweeps it again, shattering the remaining mirrors. The mist is swept away and he catches a quick glance of bodies and Hashirama before the hunter nin charges directly at him. 

Madara bats away the senbon flying ahead of the hunter and then throws the gunbai up. The action startles the hunter. Just a bit, just enough for a slight fumble in his steps.

It’s all Madara needs.

He catches the boy, two quick jabs to his chest and a follow-up kick that sends him flying before he can recover his breath. Madara straightens and catches the falling gunbai in his hand. The hunter isn’t a bad dancer, but he’s not Hashirama.

Not even close.

Luckily for him, Madara is struggling to focus. Right now, he wants nothing more than to sit down and run his hands over the gunbai and inspect it closely. He wants to spar with Hashirama and push the fan to its limit. He wasn’t able to take the original out of the compound so it’ll be a completely new experience. He also needs to think of a good and proper place to keep the gunbai. There’s a spot over his and Hashirama’s bed in their tiny house he could mount it when they were in Konoha. But then he wouldn’t be able to see it in bed…maybe on the opposite wall? He’ll have to convince Hashirama to rearrange those abstract paintings that he insists look like trees and birds where Madara only sees blobs. The gunbai should be the centerpiece on the wall, not shunted off to the side.

“Madara-sensei!” Naruto yells and Madara snaps back to the present.

The hunter is charging at him again. He’s slower than he was before. Slower than Madara remembers him in the first face-off with Zabuza.

_He’s exhausted._

Madara sidesteps the senbon and uses his momentum to slam the gunbai into the hunter’s side. He goes tumbling back across the bridge and crashes into the railing.

The hunter slumps over with a groan, his mask falling to pieces on the concrete as blood drips from his mouth.

_Fuck._ Madara just reacted, he might have hit him too hard. He hurries over to the hunter, Sasuke slowly limping behind him and pretty much dragging Naruto along.

The hunter looks up. There are ice-like cracks in his skin, splintering along his neck and cheek. Madara has no idea who the fuck he is.

“Uh…Sasuke. Isn’t that your—”

“No.”

“But—”

“Shut. _Up_.”

“Please…kill me,” the boy stares up at him, hazel eyes pleading. A shudder of disgust wracks through Madara just as Naruto starts protesting.

“W-whoa! Madara-sensei, you’re not going to, right? ‘Cause that’s—”

“I don’t kill kids,” he interrupts Naruto, staring into the hunter’s eyes. He laughs, a harsh racking thing that has him spitting up more blood and his skin cracking further.

“You’re terribly cruel, sentencing me to a life without purpose. Here I thought you’d understand…but I guess the Uchiha really were cursed with hatred, to deprive me of this final compassion…” He’s still speaking, but Madara is caught on the phrasing, _cursed with hatred._ It’s such a… _Senju_ insult. They were the only clan that used hatred to describe the Uchiha. Other enemies just claimed they were cursed, inhuman, monstrous. “…do you have a precious person?” The hunter asks. He doesn’t continue and Madara realizes he wants an answer.

He scowls, tightens his hand around the gunbai’s hilt, and thinks of a hundred sharingan-quality memories of Hashirama smiling at him. Izuna always following behind him with stars in his eyes, all of the childish paintings Madara hangs with pride in their room. Father entrusting him with the clan’s business, teaching him about the falcons, his rare and proud smiles. Mother’s lessons, her precious genjutsu memories, her final sacrifice for their clan. Yuuto, Reo, and Kaito his younger brothers who he held and cared for but failed them when it mattered most. Hikaku and Naori, all of his younger cousins who he swore to protect, he wouldn’t fail them as he had before. Every fallen Uchiha whose name is permanently carved into Madara’s heart, their names never lost or forgotten as long as his still beats.

Sai. Naruto. Shin. Tatsuki. Yamato-sensei. Everyone in this time too.

“Of course, I do!”

The hunter smiles, teeth stained with blood.

“Now imagine you’ve failed them. You’re useless to them. A broken tool, nothing but—”

“Oh, fuck off,” Madara interrupts with a sneer. “A broken, useless tool? You’re a person, not an object.” That’s what made the war horrifying. Every Uchiha lost was precious. Someone’s son or daughter. Brother or sister. Mother or father. Husband or wife. Aunt or uncle. They were a person, they had hopes and dreams, likes and dislikes, they deserved to live not die in an endless cycle of war and death.

Madara thinks of Hashirama and his dead brothers and mother. His cousins and clan members. Blood that he, Madara, has spilled to protect his own clan. Even their enemies had…

But that was then. Even _if_ a person could be a tool, they weren’t any longer. Konoha existed. He and Hashirama seized power and broke the cycle. No more endless war. There was peace.

“You’re naïve, for a killer. You still think your actions are your own. I know mine are not, I’ve accepted that, and I’ve chosen which dream I will kill and die for,” the hunter says resoundingly. In the distance, Madara can hear a sharp whistle and Hashirama’s voice.

“You and that Zabuza guy are partners, right? Why would…I just don’t _get it_ …You _want_ to be his weapon? His tool? That’s not living…” Naruto trails off, voice desperate and frustrated. Sasuke doesn’t say anything.

“Isn’t it? Zabuza took me it when I had no one else. A cursed boy with a cursed kekkei genkai who escaped the purges.” Madara’s skin crawls. Purges? “People always fear power, they always hate what they don’t understand. You two are Uchiha, tell me I’m wrong. Why else would your clan be killed like mine was?” His voice is soft, insidious.

Madara…he hasn’t thought about it.

He and Hashirama will go back to their proper time and prevent the Massacre. He won’t fail again.

But…why were they killed in the first place? Could no one have stopped one person, even if he was an Uchiha? In all of Konoha? How could he have killed the entire clan without anyone noticing or intervening?

“Shut up,” Sasuke’s voice is shaking and for a moment something like regret twists the hunter’s face.

Madara pushes his thoughts down and straightens.

“If this is all about Zabuza, the solution is simple. I’ll just kill him and spare you. No more master. No more tool.”

The hunter’s eyes widen, panicked and desperate.

“ _No._ No, you can’t…” He trails off as Madara reaches towards the katana at his hip. “You…it’s _you_.” His voice trembles with anger, hatred flashing in his eyes. Madara braces himself, letting go of the sheathed blade, as the hunter surges up. “I’m not letting you kill him! You _will_ kill me first!”

“Get back!” Madara yells at Naruto and Sasuke. 

The hunter’s burst of rage and adrenaline is fleeting, but if he chooses to focus on the genin…Sasuke is supporting nearly all of Naruto’s weight and doesn’t have his sharingan activated. He won’t be able to maneuver or block in time.

This isn’t ideal. They’re in close quarters, Madara doesn’t have the space to swing or throw his gunbai properly. He grits his teeth and dodges the desperate swing, but keeps close, blocking the hunter’s view of the other genin.

The hunter twists, senbon held like a kunai in hand. There’s not enough space for Madara to block. He could dodge again but Naruto and Sasuke…If he’s not in the right place and the hunter has the frame of mind to aim for the genins’ vital points…

Madara twists at the last second and the senbon sinks into his shoulder. Painful, but not the vital point the hunter was aiming for.

“Wrong move,” Madara smirks and raises his free hand before the hunter can follow up the attack. Fire sparks to life in his palm and he grabs the hunter’s arm.

His reaction is instantaneous. The boy flinches back as soon as Madara touches him. It’s a small gap, but a gap, nonetheless. Madara raises his gunbai and swings. The fan connects to his side and he goes flying. This time Madara is right behind him when he comes to a crashing stop. The hunter pushes himself up to his knees with a wet gasp. Madara watches closely but he doesn’t reach for more senbon or surge upwards to attack. Instead, he climbs slowly to his feet, all the rage and adrenaline gone. Tears drip from his eyes and his left cheek is a bloody mess, the skin completely cracked open to show the muscle underneath.

“Surrender.”

Madara raises the gunbai between them. The hunter’s not going to win this fight, but Madara’s not going to give him what he wants either.

The boy opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, freezes. His eyes dart to something behind Madara. His face softens, turns peaceful even as he darts to the side and, just as Madara feared, throws senbon at Naruto and Sasuke.

_Dammit!_ He thought the hunter had given up. Madara darts to intercept the needles, giving the other boy time to form hand seals. But instead of an attack, he reforms a single ice mirror and darts through it.

_Where is he? What kind of plan is this?_

Madara whirls around but he can’t see—

There.

The second mirror. Right next to Zabuza and Hashirama.

And in between them…

Madara curses, he can see the blood pooling from here. The gash of muscle, bone, and fabric that no longer looks human, just pure gore. Hashirama is frozen in place, the blade still stuck in the remains of the hunter’s chest. Even from this distance Madara can see him shaking, but his hair has fallen forward to cover his eyes.

Zabuza raises his sword and Hashirama doesn’t move.

Zabuza makes some kind of choked noise, a name, _Haku_ , and Hashirama doesn’t move.

Zabuza brings the blade down and—

—Madara moves.

Faster than he’s ever run before. He pushes chakra into his legs and the stone bridge cracks and craters under him as he launches himself forward to throw himself between Hashirama and the blade, gunbai raised.

Kubikiribōchō slams into his warfan before it cuts into either Hashirama or Haku. Vindictive pleasure curls in Madara’s chest as he pushes chakra into the fan and growls, “Uchihagaeshi!”

He hasn’t mastered the technique, and Zabuza’s swing was significantly more forceful than Haku’s needles, so some of the force transfers back into him. He smacks back into Hashirama and they fall hard to the ground, skidding back over the rough stone.

Madara rises with a twisted snarl.

His world is bathed in red rage but his heart pounds in cold terror.

If he had been any slower…

He can see it too clearly. The blade biting into Hashirama’s chest the exact way he’d done to Haku. Hashirama is a miraculous healer but he has _limits._ He’s only human. It would have killed him.

Zabuza nearly killed him.

Madara’s eyes are on the man, slumped over on the ground where the wind from Madara’s Uchihagaeshi slammed him.

He’s not aware of the boiling chakra leaking from his skin, visible to even the untrained civilians.

He’s not aware of the way they shrink back from him, even Kakashi hesitates, tightening his grip on a kunai.

He’s not aware of the second tomoe burning in his right eye, forming the moment he saw Zabuza’s blade swing down.

No, the only thing Madara sees is Zabuza.

He’s going to wish Hashirama killed him. There won’t even be _ash_ left when Madara’s—

Hashirama gasps behind him, a desperate choking sound, and Madara turns away. The smothering tension breaks as he crouches next to Hashirama and lays the gunbai down. Belatedly he senses Kakashi moving over towards Zabuza and a mass of weak civilian chakra gathering at the unfinished edge of the bridge.

He doesn’t care.

It’s not Hashirama.

“Hashi. Hashi, look at me. Focus.” Madara scrabbles for the waterskin at his waist. He pours half of it over Hashirama’s shaking hands, watching as the blood turns pink and drips off. He’s not present. His brown eyes are blown wide and unfocused. He’s looking through Madara instead of at him. He’s still gasping, short shallow breaths when he needs to be breathing deeply.

“Hashi—” Beneath the tears and blood, Hashirama’s face turns white and a line of spit drips from his mouth. Madara curses and turns him to the side so he doesn’t throw up on himself. Hashirama retches while Madara runs his hand down his back. He forces down his own impulse to gag. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” He half-pulls, half-drags Hashirama away from the vomit and unwinds one of the bandage strips from his arm. Madara pours more water onto the make-shift rag and rubs it across his cheeks and mouth.

He’s dabbing it with more water when Hashirama hiccups and croaks out, “M-madara?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here.” The civilian chakra is closer now. He’s absently aware of things happening around them but there’s no real threat. The rogues are all dead. Haku is dead. Zabuza will be soon. The only thing that threatens to draw his attention is _Zabuza_ responding to a new man’s smarmy voice, _Gato_ , but even that doesn’t matter. Hashirama does.

“Madara, I—I…” Hashirama collapses forward with a cry, body wracking from the sobs.

Madara stares at him, hands clenching open and closed. He wants to fix this, but how? He can kill Zabuza, the rage is still burning under his skin, but that’s not going to help Hashirama. It’s not going to bring Haku back.

Madara takes a deep breath, buries his anger a little deeper, and reaches out to pull Hashirama close.

Of the two of them, Hashirama is the only one who’s killed other children. Madara’s not naïve enough to believe his actions have never led to their deaths but he’s never struck a killing blow on the battlefield. The Senju don’t offer Hashirama the same kindness Father does him.

Hashirama hated it. That’s where the spark of their shared dream was born, after all. The pain of loss they endured, the pain they forced onto others.

And here, in this time, it was so much better. Here there were no wars, no killing children. Every assassination was an adult and while it wasn’t perfect, it was still so much better— _you still think your actions are your own_ —but then they just had to…to…

Haku just had to jump in front of the blade.

Zabuza just had to twist a child into a weapon to suit his own purposes.

His rage bubbles up again and Madara can barely choke it down. 

“You bastard!”

His head snaps up at Naruto’s voice and he takes a good look at the situation around them.

Beside him, pressed up against the railing, Sakura and Yamato-sensei still guard Tazuna and the workers. In between the cracks of the hastily made stone wall, Madara can barely see Sai’s milk-white skin stained with blood.

In front of him there’s a short man in a suit and spectacles, Gato. He has a small army of thugs behind him and is kicking Haku’s mutilated body. Madara pulls Hashirama’s head down against his shoulder so he doesn’t look up and see.

Zabuza, looking worse for wear, watches silently on.

Kakashi kneels behind him. He has one hand pressed against his injured side and the other stuck out in front of Naruto and Sasuke. Naruto’s pushed himself away from Sasuke, but he still looks like one of Hashirama’s pin cushions and has no chakra left. He lurches, unable to stand up completely on his own, and falls against Kakashi’s arm. Even if he got past the jonin, he’d collapse before he made it to Zabuza, let alone Haku and Gato.

Naruto’s yelling at Zabuza about Haku, who’s spouting the same fucking nonsense about tools and being used. But then he looks back at Kakashi and the two genin and Madara can see the shiny tracks of tears dripping down his face and soaking into the bandages covering his mouth and neck.

He says something else that’s too quiet for Madara to catch and tears the bandages free with his teeth. Naruto huffs and turns away from him with a scowl. It’s Sasuke who stumbles forward and throws him a kunai. Zabuza catches it in his mouth and runs straight at Gato.

_Suicide run._

Madara watches with cold eyes, and burning rage in his chest, holding Hashirama’s shaking body close, as Zabuza is torn and cut down. The thugs’ numbers overwhelm him, his arms disabled and no way to protect himself. But he makes it through the crowd and cuts Gato’s throat before he collapses, swords and spears stuck out of his back.

Madara’s only regret is he didn’t kill Zabuza himself.

Behind him, towards the Wave side of the bridge, Madara feels another growing source of civilian chakra. The villagers, rapidly approaching.

He’s not _surprised_ when the thugs regroup, stepping over the few fallen bodies Zabuza managed to cut down before his death. He’s not surprised when the lead one steps forward to shout, “You pieces of shit killed our source of income! Guess we’ll just have to take it from the village!”

But it’s when the leader levels his spear at Naruto, at Hashirama who’s nearly lined up perfectly behind the younger genin, that something inside of Madara snaps and the coiling shrieking rage bursts free. 

What is _wrong_ with all these adults?

The war is over why do they keep insisting children fight for them, die for them?

Why are they so willing to kill children at the drop of a hat?

Has no one learned _anything?!_

Madara squeezes Hashirama’s shoulders before he pushes himself to his feet and picks his gunbai up from the ground.

The world ripples and for a moment it’s not a bridge and thugs, but it’s one of the barren war-torn battlefields and an enemy clan. Nothing burns but Madara can practically taste the smoke on his tongue. He half expects to catch Father from the corner of his eye or feel the weight of Mother’s red hand-me-down armor on his shoulders and hips.

Madara blinks and reality settles.

He pushes past Sasuke who’s stiff and unmoving, eyes lowered. Past Kakashi whose injured body is coiled for action but crouched defensively towards Madara instead of the thugs. Past Naruto who’s stumbled a single step away from his jonin-sensei. He’s trying to be strong but is clearly only standing through sheer stubbornness alone.

“Madara-sensei?” His voice is quiet, still thick from crying.

“You and Sasuke should go to Yamato-sensei.” Madara’s voice is even, monotone. Devoid of the emotion he feels. They needed to get the needles taken out but Hashirama wasn’t in a mindset to heal anyone now. Yamato-sensei specialized in stabilization but he could heal basic things.

Naruto’s eyes flick towards the thugs then back at him. Madara remembers how he reacted to the first chunins’ deaths, almost two weeks ago. “Turn around, Naruto.”

Madara turns away and steps out to Haku’s body.

He unsheathes his katana and points it at the lead thug, the challenge clear.

“You that desperate to be the first to die, kid?” The thug laughs and the sound ripples across the fifty or so men that stand behind him. “Someone tryin’ to be a hero?”

It’s true that reasonably he is the only one that can fight, besides Yamato-sensei. Maybe if he, Yamato-sensei, and Kakashi worked together they could force them back with a show of numbers. Maybe if they held out until the villages arrived en masse, they might drive the thugs back. They were looking for an easy opportunity to take advantage of a poor town, not a drawn-out fight.

But that’s not why Madara lowers his blade, braces his feet, and darts forward.

His blade flashes, slicing through the first thug’s stomach. The others are fumbling, trying to react and he cuts through three more.

No.

Hashirama is hurt.

But Zabuza is dead. Gato is dead.

No one but these thugs are left, even then Madara knows they’re not really the ones he should be directing the burning white-hot rage that’s running through him at.

But Hashirama is hurt.

Tatsuki was nearly killed.

Naruto has pushed himself to chakra exhaustion.

Sai is injured, he doesn’t know how bad.

And Madara…he can’t…he has to do something _. Anything._

The rage curls and bubbles in his chest. He feels too small. His limbs tingle and ache, caging a monster that’s too big to fit into his skin. _He had the entire war and all its death caged inside him, a true sun-blessed prodigy._

Nothing about this is right.

But these adults were willing to kill anyone who got in their way. Even kids.

Madara gives in and welcomes the familiar rush of fury.

Some thugs finally find their footing and charge at him. They’re so slow. Madara lets the dance, simple and plain, take him.

Twist. Cut. Duck. Slash. Block. Slice.

It’s mindless in a way. Their only threat is their sheer numbers and since Madara has his gunbai to block their attacks, even that is lessened. 

The blood is less of a problem and more an inconvenience.

It’s not something he can avoid but by the time he’s cut their number in half, the bridge and Madara both, are soaked in it. He runs a light coating of chakra through his hands so the katana and gunbai don’t slip through his fingers. There’s less he can do about his dripping shirt and shorts. The remaining bandage on his arm has turned red as he absently swipes at the blood spray on his cheeks.

“W-what are you…” A man with two swords that he’s knocked on his back looks up at him in terror.

Madara stabs him in the throat and swings his gunbai at the next two running at him.

When only six are left, they finally decide to run away. The remaining men drop their weapons and sprint towards the end of the bridge where their boat must be docked. Madara pauses and thinks of letting them go.

But Hashirama’s unfocused eyes flash in his mind. His frozen body, sword still buried in Haku’s chest as Zabuza swung his giant blade down.

If Madara had been too late, if he had been _any_ slower, or mistimed it…

The thought is physically painful and Madara knows, deep, deep down in the far reaches of his mind what losing Hashirama would do to him. The same if he lost Izuna.

He rushes forward, picking off the stragglers. He kills three before they reach the end of the bridge. The fourth is stabbed between his eyes as he tries to rappel down. The fifth jumps straight into the water as Madara sheathes his bloody sword and throws a kunai that hits between his shoulder blades. The final one is on the boat, running towards the engine when Madara drives the blunt tip of his gunbai into the stone and runs through the signs of Fireball and sets the ship ablaze.

He watches, unblinking, until the final thug jumps over the side of the boat in an effort to put himself out. He douses the flames but the water does little for the kunai that gets buried in his neck. Madara turns away as blood blooms in the water below.

_Dead. All sixty-seven men are dead._

The dance slows to a stop. Madara blinks and lets his sharingan fade. He wrenches the gunbai free from the stone and walks over to Gato’s body, smoke billowing up behind him. He nudges it with his foot, but the body doesn’t twitch or shift. It really is dead. He still pulls his blade free and pierces Gato’s chest for his own peace of mind.

And it’s for his own dark satisfaction that he twists the blade, images of Tatsuki starving behind her dumpster, all the other children worn and desperate with their hungry war-eyes in this supposed time of peace. He pulls the blade free.

He’s turning away, stalking towards Zabuza’s body, when he senses the ripple of powerful chakra. His blade is up and he swings at the new foe.

The body materializes across on the opposite side of Gato’s, near the very edge of the unfinished bridge.

Madara’s katana connects, he watches it land but it passes straight through the red and black cloak and he nearly overbalances from the lack of resistance. A second enemy, with some weird plant _thing_ encasing its head, crawls up from under the bridge.

“Well, well, well, well, _well._ What do we have here?”

The spiraling orange mask tilts to the side and Madara meets the gaze of a red sharingan eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Obito and Zetsu finally make their entrance! You always have to be fashionably late to these things LOL. 
> 
> (Also RIP all of Gato's thugs, can't wait to see how that's gonna affect things...Hashirama is very protective of Madara but that is a two-way street, friends, and Madara's the one more likely to straight-up murder someone on the first offense.)
> 
> Little announcement about the update schedule. College is picking up and I'm starting to drown in long-term projects. Weekly updates will continue to finish out this arc (I'm rearranging some things in edits but probably 2-3 more weeks). After that, the interlude chapters will be released every two weeks bc I don't want to put out something unfinished/unpolished. I'm expecting 2-4 of those and then it'll be time for a writing hiatus as I tackle the chunin exam/konoha crush arc. Despite this technically being "two" arcs, I'll write it as one bc they flow immediately together and stopping on a giant cliffhanger to take a month off to finish the next arc sounds cruel LOL. Once that's finished, it'll be back to weekly updates. I'm not sure how long the writing hiatus for the chunin exam/KC arc will be, bc that's right around the time school ends and my future is a giant ? right now as I anxiously await to hear from jobs/internships. I'm anticipating 2-3 months since the arc is "longer" but I should have more concrete dates by the time the interlude chapters wrap up. 
> 
> The next chapter will be up next Sunday, March 14th.
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://mira--mira.tumblr.com/) for more content!
> 
> Thank you for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! <3


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